Hogan's Heroes: All Hectic On the Eastern Front
by Basketballgirl Kaitlin
Summary: Spin off to "To Russia Without Love". What happens had Klink not been stopped in time to keep him from going to Russia? And what happens when a tragic event leads Hogan, Schultz, Hochstetter, and Klink's daughter to Stalingrad themselves? With a mad man as a new kommandant and Klink's life on the line, will Hogan's operation survive or go down in flames along with Stalag 13?
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Why, hello there, folks! Back again with another one for you. I got inspired for this story idea after watching the episode "To Russia Without Love" and wondered to myself 'What would have happened had Hogan not been in time to save Klink from his transfer?' So, what happens when Klink can not be stopped from leaving for Russia? And what happens to Stalag 13 when a mad minded, power hungry Luftwaffe colonel takes command of camp? Well, this story answers those questions for you. So have fun reading, and as always, leave me some reviews. I like to read your guys' responses. Dialogue from the actual episode are italicized. Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Prologue:**

_"What about Klink?" Carter asked, as he stood in front of the barracks door. He looked at his commander with worried eyes and a hidden expression of anxiety written on his face._

_"We gotta keep him from going to Russia," Hogan said, using all his energy to remain calm._

_"Yeah, but Burkhalter now thinks he's a great soldier!"_

_"We created the monster, we'll destroy it. Now, come on. We've got work to do at the motor pool!"_

As the two Allied soldiers were about to hurry out of barracks two, they were stopped the minute they heard Kinch's voice from behind them.

"Forget it, Colonel," he said, making Hogan and Carter turn their heads back at the head radioman. "That motor pool's guarded from front to back. Klink gave the orders to make sure no one goes in and tries to ruin the staff cars or motorcycle. We haven't got a shot at getting inside there." He continued.

"Kinch, there's got to be another way into that motor pool. If we don't get in there and now, we lose Klink and Schultz." The colonel replied, with urgency.

"It's impossible, Colonel. We'd be shot just for trying. Even if we had some flimsy excuse to get inside, the motorcycle is completely surrounded by guards. They'd see what we were up to, and all of us are sent to the cooler for Lord only knows how long."

"What about Kalina? If we don't get in there, she'll lose her father. Maybe _forever_." The technical sergeant exclaimed.

Kinch shook his head with a long frown.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. There's just no chance," he answered.

Hogan gave a heavy sigh, and his brown eyes grew dim. This was it then. Their work at Stalag 13 was over, and Kalina would again be without her father. Only this time, there really _was_ no way of knowing when or if he would return. Klink would have quite the shock when he got there and found that it was everything he feared and more. Snow, blood, fallen soldiers, and lots of gunfire and violence.

"Well then," the American said. "We better go out there and wish Old Bald Eagle good luck, then...I certainly know the _seven_ of us are gonna need it."

Kinch slowly made his way back down into the tunnels to man the radio, and Hogan and Carter sulked out of the barracks and headed for Klink's office.

* * *

_"I cannot understand where Colonel Becker is," Burkhalter said, standing on the porch of the kommandantur's with Klink. They looked out into the quiet compound together at the motorcycle and a very depressed looking Schultz sitting on it._

_"He may have been delayed in town," Klink answered, not sounding like he cared too much about his successor's whereabouts._

_"But I wanted to formally have you give over command to him."_

_"I will send him a letter. Well look, General Burkhalter, I'm very anxious to get started." As the colonel was about to walk down the stairs towards the passenger side of the motorcycle, the three Germans were greeted by Hogan, Carter, Newkirk, Baker, and LeBeau, all wishing to give their farewells to the German officer they had somewhat grown to love._

_"General Burkhalter, we'd like to say 'goodbye' to Sergeant Schultz and Colonel Klink," Hogan stated._

"Sergeant Schultz will not be going anywhere, Hogan. I was just about to tell him what I told Klink. The Luftwaffe squadron Klink is being transferred to will not accept him. They say his eyesight is failing, older than they wish him to be, and that his running test he took back at the beginning of the war was so bad, it made a turtle look faster than him. Schultz, you remain Senior Sergeant here at Stalag 13 and will escort Colonel Klink to the train station," the general said.

The sergeant of the guard's eyes began to twinkle, and a wide grin grew on his face.

"You mean I get to stay, _Herr General_?!" He cried.

"Yes, Schultz, you will stay here."

"Oh, thank you, _Herr General_! Langenscheidt! Langenscheidt! _Ich bleibe! Der General sagt, dass ich bleiben erhalten_! Take my suitcase and put it back in my quarters! I will unpack when I _return_ from the train station!" (1)

"_Jawohl_, Sergeant!" The Head Corporal replied, hurrying to the motorcycle. He took the suitcase on top off and sprinted to the guards' barracks.

"Looks like it's just Old Iron Eagle leaving us then," Newkirk said, his tone with just barely a hint of dreariness.

"Goodbye, Kommandant. Write to us when you get the chance," Baker said sincerely.

_"Good luck, Colonel," Hogan said, shaking his German counterpart's hand._

_"Thank you. I imagine they'll be dancing in the barracks tonight when Old Blood and Guts is gone?" Klink remarked, giving his usual goofy, pompous smile._

_"To be honest with you, we'll kind of miss you, Sir," the American answered, a part of his heart dying on the inside. What in God's name was going to happen after Klink left? How would they continue to run their operation in camp? He was somewhat relieved because Schultz was staying behind and would be there for them, but their new kommandant might be a real nightmare. Someone who abused, neglected, and tortured them senselessly. And most of all, what would happen to Kalina? He was surprised she was no where to be seen in sight or there to say 'goodbye'. He assumed she was probably still in her quarters crying. She had gotten very little sleep last night and stayed up until about four in the morning sobbing in grief and fear. Fear of never seeing her father again. Of never talking to or doing things with him again. Grief that she would not know when or if she would ever see him again. His heart ached more knowing that part and vowed he would try and make this drastic life transition as easy as possible for her and the others. He knew his men and possibly even the guards were not happy their commanding officer was leaving them._

_"So it goes," Klink said, placing his right hand on his belly. "You win some, you lose some."_

As the German officer was about to get in the passenger side, Kalina's small figure came running around the side of her father's office. Her eyes were a bright red and looked extremely irritated. Had it not been for everyone knowing what caused it, it could have easily been mistaken for some serious chemical or object causing inflammation.

Hogan turned to his littlest team member and gently rubbed her back.

"Kalina," he began. "You want to take a few minutes to say 'goodbye' to your father?"

The teenager did not answer. She simply looked up at the man she looked up to and admired since she was a tiny little girl. There he was in full combat uniform and standing just as tall and proud as he always had. He looked down at her and gave her a comforting smile. His pretty blue eyes twinkled as they told her he would be alright and come back to her again.

Kalina wrapped her arms gently around her father, buried her face into his belly, and made a few cries that sounded more like a bark. She felt her inside break more when he began to rub her head and hushed her. She looked up at him with her wet eyes, and Klink wiped away her tears with his thumb. It proved useless when she continued to cry anyways.

"Don't cry, _süßes_. I won't be gone for long," he said.

"I'm gonna miss you so much. I don't want you to die like those other soldiers I've heard of." She wept.

"I'm not _going_ to be one of those soldiers. I'll go, fight for my country, do a little sightseeing when I have the free time, and I'll be back before you know it."

"When will _that_ be, though?"

Klink's smile grew a bit wider.

"Someday, baby...someday. And when I get back, we will go on that trip to Argentina we always talked about doing." He promised.

"I wanna go to Argentina," Carter said, slightly offended he had not been invited.

"Carter." Hogan groaned.

"What? I've always wanted to see the beaches there," the young sergeant answered.

"Andrew, may I see that cap of yours?" Newkirk asked, turning to his friend.

As Carter was about to remove it and hand it over, he instantly left his hat be and put his arm down at his side.

"No, you're gonna hit me with it, aren't you."

"I ain't gonna bloody hit you with the hat, I just wanna look at it."

"You promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright...I'm trusting you."

Carter handed the Englishman his cap, who briefly looked down at it, handed it to LeBeau, and the French corporal did the job for Newkirk by smacking Carter on the top left side of his skull. The sergeant glared at both of them, grabbed his hat, and placed it back on his head.

"Papa," Kalina said, shaky. "I'm very proud of you. You're strong and brave and kind and caring, smart and funny and everything I wanna be when I'm an adult...I don't care what other officers think or say about you, you're a hero, Papa...you're _my_ hero. And I love you more than this entire country." By the end, she was sobbing again. Her father pulled her tighter to him and hushed her again.

"I love _you_, sweetpea. You take good care of my camp while I'm gone. Make sure these men here don't try and mess anything up or Stalag 13's perfect record," Klink said, then gave his daughter a kiss on the top of her head.

"Will you...write me letters every week?" Kalina sniffled.

"I'll do you one better and call you once a day. How's that sound?"

The teenager nodded, rubbed her face against Klink, then gave him one more big hug, though she wished to just be in that moment for the rest of her life.

"Stay safe, Papa...I love you," she said, meek.

The colonel held her close, rubbed the back of her head, then gave her one more kiss on the head.

"I will," he answered, making it a promise. "I'll call you as soon as I get to my base."

Kalina got up on her tip-toes, put her arms around her father's neck, and gave him a big kiss on the bottom of his cheek. When they finally let go of one another, Klink got into the passenger side, and Kalina went to Hogan's side for emotional support.

"Attention!" The American barked.

The four flyers gave a strong salute along with their commander and Klink's daughter. Though she was going to miss him dearly, Kalina forced a proud smile on her face through her tears. Her father would finally prove everyone in Germany they were wrong about him. That he was indeed a real hero and not just a man that bluffed about everything. She could not do it for long, however. Her chest started aching and felt like someone had just punched her right in the heart. She silently wept as she leaned her head against Hogan. This was it. This was 'goodbye'.

_The kommandant stood in his seat, gave them a sharp salute, then sat down and waited for Schultz to start the engine._

_"Goodbye, General Burkhalter," Klink said, as he sat down in the motorcycle passenger side._

_"Good luck, Klink," the general answered genuinely._

_"Thank you. Forward!"_

Schultz stepped on the gas pedal, and the two Germans were soon out of camp and out of sight. The minute Klink disappeared in the horizon, his daughter silently began to cry harder and buried her face into Hogan.

"There he goes," Newkirk said.

"Our brave soldier." Baker added.

"And a brave soldier that will return one day. We'll all see Klink again someday. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. And we'll all be standing at that front gate welcoming him home again," Hogan said, giving them all hope and courage to stay strong until that day came. With their Bald Eagle gone, they would need as much strength and courage as they could get. Stalag 13 would never be the same again without Kommandant Wilhelm Klink.

* * *

(1) _Ich bleibe! Der General sagt, dass ich bleiben erhalten_ \- I'm staying! The general says I can stay!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

PART ONE:

(_Four months later: January 2, 1943 - Stalag 13_)

The first month and a half were difficult for Hogan, his men, the guards, and Kalina to adjust to. Since Becker had completely vanished without a trace of where he went, Stalag 13 received a new kommandant sent from Berlin named Colonel Werner Koch. He was young, around his early thirties, extremely thin, had blonde hair, and harsh looking blue eyes. He had yet to show the prisoners and guards whether he was violent or not, but he had proved to all of them that he was not someone to take crap and had a fist harder than iron. If a prisoner simply missed roll call because they overslept, that man and the rest of his bunk-mates were confined to their barracks for a week and cut back from three meals to one. If a guard was caught slacking off or dozing off, Schultz being the main one, Koch ordered him to walk a post for four days straight carrying a fire extinguisher strapped to their back or made them sleep outside of camp in area susceptible to air raids. They were lucky enough just to have the privilege of going to the bathroom and having five hours of sleep before going back to their post.

He was not hitting it off with everyone at all. Guards talked about him behind his back, some even making ideas on how to get him sent away to another unit, prisoners had become terrified just to go outside and play sports, and Kalina had become basically a peasant. She was ordered to clean her father's office, refusing to think of it as anyone else's, with nothing more than a toothbrush and bucket of soapy water, bring Koch food and drink, make his bed, do his laundry, and even sweep all the buildings in camp with nothing more than herself and a broom. If she missed just one little spot, she had to clean the entire camp all over again after being hollered at and called nothing more useful than a rat is. How since she had been born a girl instead of a boy, she was a disgrace to Hitler and Germany and that her father felt the same way about her. She had finally had the guts to tell Burkhalter about everyone's poor treatment and now had a kommandant monitor stationed in camp. He was a colonel with higher ranking, many more awards than Koch had, and had strong connections with the Gestapo with his brother being one of the head commanders at Hammelburg Headquarters. Things had gotten a little better since then. The prisoners now felt safe enough to go outside and were to be treated by the Geneva Convention regulations, the guards were getting hollered at now for messing up on something instead of physical labor and being exposed to possible death for punishment, and Kalina had been ordered to do nothing more physical than help Fraulein Hilda file paperwork and take phone calls for Koch if he was unavailable. He had even been threatened by the general to be reported to Berlin and go under investigation by the Gestapo if he were to continue or worsen his mistreatment of everyone. Thankfully, it had helped things at Stalag 13 mellow down for the meanwhile.

Hogan, his men, and Kalina all sat around the table of barracks two doing their own thing. The colonel himself was drinking a cup of hot coffee while reading the newspaper, Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau were playing a game of gin, Kinch and Baker were attempting to fix a leak in the ceiling, and Kalina was knitting a fuzzy aqua scarf for her grandma. Everyone was so lost in their thoughts that they failed to notice when Schultz entered inside. After a few minutes of pure silence, Hogan felt the presence of someone new in the room. He lifted his eyes from the article he was currently reading and saw it was just their friendly camp guard.

"Schultz, how's it going out there?" He asked.

"Uh, terrible. The new kommandant is getting on my last nerve. And boy; is he sure a sweetheart!" Schultz complained, lots of sarcasm in the last part.

"Believe me, Schultz. He's no ray of sunshine," Kinch said, helping Baker put up a ceiling patch.

"You're telling _me_! He said if I were to fall asleep while on duty one more time, I would not be allowed to have any dinner or go to bed for two days." The guard continued. His tone had become soft and sad this time.

"Don't worry, Schultzie. You can have dinner with _us_ if that happens," LeBeau said, with a sincere smile.

"Oh, _Danke_, LeBeau. Thank you very much."

"Where is Old Hothead anyways?" Newkirk asked, lying down a card on the table. Old Hothead was the nickname everyone had given Koch in camp. Some of the guards and prisoners had nicknames that were worse, even vulgar, but Old Hothead was used by everyone.

"Probably trying to find a reason to confine us to the barracks..._again_," Hogan answered, taking a drink of coffee.

As Schultz was about to start a conversation with the seven people he considered his friends, a man's voice could be heard screaming the guard's name at the top of his lungs.

"SCHULTZ!" Koch bellowed. "FIND THE MAN THAT PUT THIS IN MY DESK, AND HAVE THEM REPORT TO ME AT ONCE!"

"Who put _what_ in his desk?" The American officer asked, slightly confused.

Carter soon was hanging his head, staring down at the floor, and fell dead silent. It attracted everyone's attention on him, making the sergeant feel even _more_ uncomfortable.

"Andrew, what the bloody hell did you do?" The Englishman asked.

"Nothing! At least I _thought_ nothing. Just wanted to do a little prank on the Kommandant is all," Carter answered.

"You bungling blockhead, your stupid prank's gonna get us another week confinement to the barracks and an twelve hour work detail without rest."

"Or shot." LeBeau hissed.

Hogan sighed with frustration and turned to look back at his demolitions expert.

"Carter, what did you put in the Kommandant's desk?" He asked.

"I'll explain it more on the way to the kommandant's office, Sir," Carter said, dreading what he assumed was coming for him.

"Alright," Hogan answered, getting to his feet. "Come on, Kalina. Maybe we'll get off easier if you're present."

The little teenager's eyes dilated in size as if her worst nightmare had come to reality. Her color drained slightly and seemed to be keeping herself from shivering.

"_Me_?" She quivered. "I...I gotta go in _there_?...With _him_?"

"Why? What's wrong? You scared of something?" The colonel asked, with concern.

"_Me_?!" Kalina remarked, as if what Hogan had said offended her. "I'm not scared. We Klinks aren't afraid of anything!"

"Then come on. Before we make the Kommandant even _more_ angry."

Kalina's demeanor again quickly changed and swallowed a large lump in her throat.

"I never said we didn't get a little apprehensive once and awhile, though." She added, her voice shaky.

Baker looked down from Newkirk's bunk, when he spotted something odd on the back of the girl's neck. It looked like a dark brown line that went down from the bottom of her neck to her spine. The sight made him increasingly worried about Kalina's sudden strange behavior.

"Hey, kiddo. You alright? You gotta a dark line on the left back side of your neck," he said.

"Yeah," she answered bluntly. "I uh...fell...down the stairs...hit my back hard on the edge of one step."

Hogan wrapped an arm around her and held her close as her father had done.

"Come on, hon. I won't let him try anything," he said.

Kalina nodded, wrapped her arms around the colonel's belly, and the two of them, along with Carter, left the barracks with Schultz closing the door behind them.

Baker stood there for a moment after the four were gone, his gut telling him Klink's daughter was hiding something. Something bad. His eyes then widened a bit at his assumption and turned to look at Kinch, who was standing against one of the bunk poles.

"You don't think Koch's…" Kinch cut the assistant radioman off.

"I wouldn't single it out, Richard."

"If that bloody bastard's doing what I _think_ he's doing to me little mate, I'll kill the man with my own two hands!" Newkirk growled.

"_Oui_. I will help," LeBeau said, with a snarl of his own.

"Now hold it, fellas. We can't go killing people just on a limb. Maybe Kalina really _did_ get that mark from falling down the stairs," Kinch said, trying to calm the two corporals down.

"Kinch, I have friends back with the 475th that were abused by someone, and their scars looked exactly like the one little Kalina had on the back of her neck." Baker protested. He was certain Koch was beating Kalina under the radar. He felt the only reason no one knew was that either she was trying to stand strong and brave as Klink told her to be before leaving, or she was too terrified of facing something worse if she croaked to anyone.

"If _Monsieur Bosche _really _is_ hitting _ma petite ami_, I can assure you Klink will not let it continue when he finds out," the Frenchman said.

"Not let it continue," Newkirk commented back. "Koch'll be lucky if all he gets away with is a tar-and-feathering."

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est_: tar-and-feathering."

The Englishman signaled for LeBeau to lean over towards him, then whispered the answer in his ear, making the French corporal's eyes widen with horror.

"_Sacré chats_!" He exclaimed. "Klink would do _that_?!"

"And that's if he's _lucky_."

"You think we could get him a transfer back to Stalag 13, Kinch?" Baker asked.

"I doubt it. Klink works under the command of another general now. I don't know who he is or how I would even attempt to make contact with him to do so," the head radioman answered.

"So what the bleedin' hell do we do in the meanwhile; let that sweet little girl continue to be beaten by that monster?" Newkirk retorted.

"The only thing we _can_ do: keep a close observation on Koch and hope that this kommandant monitor will do something if he really _is_ harming Kalina," Kinch said coolly.

* * *

Koch smacked his desk with his fist and held a rubber black spider in his other. He glared at the three present before his eyes, particularly at Carter. Hogan and Kalina stood behind the sergeant in silence, and the kommandant monitor, Colonel Edmund Fehrenbach, stood guard at the door with a fully loaded machine pistol in his holster, and a fully loaded Madsen machine gun strapped to his back. He had thick black hair, was about 6'2", and had menacing brown eyes. He hardly ever talked, which made him an extreme intimidator to everyone. _Especially_ Koch.

"You think this little prank of yours is funny, Sergeant?!" The kommandant gnarled. "Haven't I told everyone in this camp I hate spiders?!"

"It's not like it jumped _up_ at you, Sir," Hogan said, defending his terrified sergeant.

"I don't care if the damn thing had been pink with sparkles! You gave me a scare from my phobia, now I will give you one of your own."

"Kommandant, it is a violation of the Geneva Convention to make one of my men suffer from their greatest fear."

"Oh, is that so," Koch picked up his riding crop from the desk, walked around to the front, then turned to Kalina while slapping the stick in his hand. "Kalina...you wouldn't report to Burkhalter I had a little interrogation with one of my prisoners, would you?"

The young Klink swallowed a large knot in her throat and shook her head while staring at the riding crop in horror.

"N, n, nnnnn no, _Herr Kommandant_. I wouldn't tell _anybody, Herr Kommandant_." She stuttered. She latched onto Hogan tighter and eventually started to worry if she was cutting off his circulation.

"Leave her alone, Kommandant. She hasn't done anything to you." Hogan warned, with glowering eyes.

"Defending a German, ehy Colonel?" Koch asked roughly.

"She's not a German, she's a fourteen year old little girl!"

As Koch was about to let all of them have it, Fehrenbach tightened a hold on his machine pistol, and the door to the office flung open. In came Burkhalter with a firm look on his face. It hardened a bit when he saw everyone's position in the room.

Kalina turned her head to see who had come in, and it was as if Heaven had answered her prayers. It was weird to think of it that way, but God had sent an angel to save all of them, and it was disturbingly the general.

"General Burkhalter!" She cried, and hurried to Burkhalter's side. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against him. The reaction she got was him briefly looking down at her, then a big arm wrapping around her shoulders and making his glare towards his subordinate.

"What's going on in here?" He demanded.

"Oh, nothing more than a little conversation with two of my prisoners, _Herr General_. Nothing too exciting, Sir," Koch answered, attempting to give a friendly smile. It looked more wicked than welcoming.

"Conversation," Burkhalter stated. "Looks more like a Gestapo interrogation going on. I thought I told you to not have anymore of these 'conversations' of yours."

"Oh, _Herr General_, you're such a card! Besides, it's not like I striked any of them."

"By the looks of it, you were about to. It's a good thing I came when I did, Colonel."

"General, I hate to sound ungrateful, but what _are_ you doing here exactly? I thought you wouldn't be coming until the 25th for the monthly inspection," Hogan said, innocently putting his arms behind his back.

"I am here to inform your new kommandant he is being transferred to another unit," the general answered.

"_Transferred_!" Koch exclaimed. "What for?!"

"There is currently an overflow of officers serving on the Russian Front and not enough back home. Colonel Klink has been one of the selected men to return to Germany and will be coming back tomorrow night to resume command of Stalag 13." Burkhalter replied, keeping a careful eye on his subordinate.

"Papa's coming home?!" Kalina cried, her eyes twinkling full of glee.

"He has already been informed by his new commander. He will return to being under mine and will be here tomorrow night around 2200 hours. Koch, you will return with me to Berlin for reassignment."

The little Klink squealed with joy, jumped up and down, and hugged the general tighter.

"_Danke, danke, __**danke**__, _General Burkhalter!" She cheered.

Burkhalter's expression looked a bit irritated, but he gently patted Kalina's head in response.

"Hogan? Kalina? You two and Sergeant Carter are dismissed. I have a few things to discuss with Colonel Koch before I go and unpack my things in the kommandant's quarters," he said.

The two prisoners and Kalina gave a respectful salute to the German officer, then left the office without another word.

"General Burkhalter, I have run my camp with quite the efficiency rating since my arrival here. Those are _my _quarters, and this is _my _office." Koch protested.

"Really," Burkhalter answered, with a sly grin. "I don't see your name on this office door."

The current kommandant plopped back down into his desk chair with blazing blue eyes and did all he could to not lash out at his commanding officer. Klink could not come back. He could not take his camp away from him. And he would make certain to keep it that way.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Around 8:00PM, Kalina and Burkhalter were in the kommandant's quarters for the evening. While the general was taking a shower, Kalina got a very welcomed phone call and sat on the sofa while giggling and talking to the caller: her papa.

"Papa, I can't wait to see you tomorrow. I've missed you like crazy. Sometimes letters and phone calls just don't cut it, you know?" The small teenager asked, with a big grin on her face.

Klink was wearing the same one on his face, as he spoke on the other end of the line. He was wearing his field issued soldier's helmet, his long white scarf still as a cravat, and his General Patton's parade outfit.

"I can't wait to see you either, _s__üßes_. I've missed you more times than I can count," he answered. "How's my camp doing?"

"Oh, you know, rowdy as always. Prisoners running around like they're on a sugar high, guards trying to keep everyone under control, Major Hochstetter with his constant snooping around the area, you haven't missed much."

"And that kommandant monitor? Is he keeping Colonel Koch in line?"

"Colonel Fehrenbach, oh definitely. Then again, he wears a machine gun strapped to his back. Any person in their right mind wouldn't mess with someone with a machine gun strapped to their back."

Klink chuckled.

"No, you make an excellent point, my dear," he said.

"How's work there? You still an air traffic control call taker?" Kalina asked.

"Actually, I was recently transferred to the rescue service team. I go out and find missing soldiers or critically injured and take them back to base for emergency medical attention if necessary."

"How many do you work with? Or do you go solo?"

"No, I work with three other officers in a team of four. Two go one way, the remaining two go the other way."

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, I miss working at ATC, but I'm still helping my fellow comrades with this job, so it has its goods and bads."

"I'm proud of you, Papa. You're a true hero to our Third Reich."

"Well, thank you. I appreciate hearing that."

"Colonel Klink," a Luftwaffe captain said. "We've got a new distress call coming in. We think one of our fighter planes just went down."

The colonel nodded and returned his attention to his daughter.

"_S__üßes_, I'm afraid I have to go now. I've just been informed of an emergency distress call. My team has to go out and find a missing pilot," he said.

"Alright, Papa. Stay safe. I wanna be the first one to greet you when you come home tomorrow night." Kalina replied.

"I will. I love you, sweetpea."

"Love you, Papa."

The girl kissed the bottom end of the receiver, then hung up after her father sent a few kisses in return. Almost immediately after putting the phone back on the line, the door to the kommandant's quarters opened, and Hogan made his way inside. He smiled when he saw Kalina get to her feet.

"Another daily phone call?" He asked.

"Yeah. Colonel Hogan, Papa's coming home. I've never been so excited before!" She remarked, her eyes still twinkling.

"I bet. Things will certainly be a lot better when he gets back tomorrow. We'll have our Bald Eagle back and say '_auf wiedersehen_' to Mr. Hothead."

Kalina giggled in response.

"Come on, kiddo. How about you join us in the barracks? We're having a celebration on your father's return to Stalag 13," the colonel said, wrapping an arm around Kalina.

The teenager nodded willingly, and the two made their way out of the kommandant's quarters and towards barracks two.

* * *

(_Berezin Air Base: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

Klink's new commander, General Drucker, lay out a map in his office on a table and pointed at a coordinate a little east of their air base. He was around Burkhalter's age, extremely thin, and had graying brown hair to go with his cool green eyes. He looked at all four of his men, Klink being the commander of the team, and began explaining their assignment.

"This was the last location we had of this contact before we lost them on radar. I advise extreme caution on this assignment. Something seems off about this distress signal."

"Why would a distress call seem off to you, _Herr General_?" Klink's second in command, Colonel Bruckner, questioned.

"They never told ATC the nature of their emergency. All we got was that their plane was going down and that they are a pilot with the Luftwaffe," Drucker said.

"Suppose they didn't know the nature of their emergency," a major, Helms, suggested.

"They would have at least told us what was going on with their monitors and dashboard. We received none of that information either. Just that they were a registered Luftwaffe aircraft and that they were going down for unexplained reasons." The general turned to the leader of the group. "Colonel Klink, I command your team to proceed as if this were to be a suspected trap by the Allies. Be aware of all of your surroundings and only split up if necessary."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_. I will be as cautious as can be, Sir," Klink said, with a smile.

Drucker only looked at him before turning back to looking at the entire group. He nodded and dismissed them to go to their stations without another word.

* * *

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany-Next evening_)

A staff car with Gestapo flags on the front drove into camp and pulled alongside the kommandantur's. The two officers inside stepped out of the vehicle and up the steps into the office. The prisoners and guards watched them for a moment, then returned to setting everything up to welcome Klink home. Two guards were hanging up a sign on the front porch of the kommandantur's that read 'Welcome Back, Kommandant Klink', Baker and Carter were setting balloons outside each barracks, and Hogan, Newkirk, and Kalina decorated the inside of the kommandant's office with Burkhalter, Koch, and Fehrenbach supervising everything. The six of them all turned their heads to the door when they heard it open and saw the two Gestapo officers emerge inside. They saluted the three Luftwaffe officers, who returned the same gesture.

"Gentlemen, what can I do for you tonight? I suggest you make it quick. We are expecting someone from the train station any minute now," Burkhalter said.

"Yeah, our old kommandant is coming back tonight." Newkirk added.

"We're trying to make everything look nice for his homecoming, Sir," Hogan said.

"I'll be seeing Papa before bedtime!" Kalina cheered.

"That is what we are here on. You are expecting a Colonel Klink to return from Russia, yes?" The first officer, a major, asked.

"Yes. Why would it be any concern to you?" Burkhalter persisted.

"I am afraid Colonel Klink will not be coming."

"Not coming!" Hogan exclaimed.

"What do you mean 'not coming'?" Newkirk asked, with suspicion.

"Colonel Klink has gone MIA. He has been since late last night," the major said.

"No, he's not. I spoke to him last night before going to bed. He was going on a rescue assignment that had just come in." Kalina argued.

"The distress call they received was staged. There was no emergency rescue to begin with. ATC in Stalingrad received a strange signal from an unknown contact coming from an area that currently sees no combat action. This morning we discovered there was no plane crash in that area. We suspect it was a trap by the Allies to make contact with Klink and go from there," the second officer, a captain, answered.

"We are trying to locate the men that went along with him last night and find out from them what happened." The major added.

"Where is he? Where's my Papa?!" The teenager wailed.

"We have search patrols currently searching for him. Major Hochstetter is to report here to General Burkhalter the minute he receives any updates from the Gestapo in Russia," the major said.

"Find him! Find my Papa, bring him back to me!"

"We are doing everything we can to do so, _Fraulein_. The only thing you can do at the moment is wait for word from Major Hochstetter. He will come here the minute he hears something back from Stalingrad."

Hogan brought Klink's daughter to his side and held her close to try and calm her. She bit her finger to keep from screaming. The American rubbed her shoulder gently.

"He's alright. Your father's alright. Perhaps he forgot to report back in when he returned to base last night," he said.

"Where is he? Where's Papa, where is he?" Kalina pleaded.

Hogan hushed her and continued to rub her shoulder. He looked up from her and at Koch. The man had no expression to his face, but something about him seemed to be enjoying everything going on. As if Klink's disappearance had been wonderful news to his ears.

While the kommandant was not looking, Hogan narrowed his eyes and glared at his German counterpart. He knew then that whatever had happened to Klink, Koch had had something to do with it.

* * *

Burkhalter and Hogan paced back and forth across the office as Koch sat in his desk and tapped a pen furiously, Newkirk held Kalina tight while she said a silent prayer, and Fehrenbach stood guard at the door doing his usual duty. All of them were anxious for Hochstetter to come and give them an answer on Klink's whereabouts. How long would it take for him to hear something? What would the report be? Was Klink still alive and just forgot to report back to his commander, or was it something much worse? None of them had any answers, and the questions continued to bombard all of them the longer they waited.

"Blimey, what the bloody hell is taking so long? Don't those Gestapo Krauts know how to do their job?" Newkirk remarked, growing frustrated with all the silence.

"It's only been two hours, Corporal. Relax yourself," Koch ordered.

"Two hours too many," Burkhalter remarked. "Where is Hochstetter with that report?"

"Do you think Major Hochstetter can find Papa, General Burkhalter?" Kalina quivered.

"If he wants to keep his job he better. Otherwise I will be sending _him_ to the Russian Front," Burkhalter said, pacing the opposite direction of Hogan.

"Honey, why don't you try and go to sleep? I'll come wake you up if we hear anything," Hogan said sincerely.

"No, I'm not sleeping until I know where Papa is." The teenager protested. "Major Hochstetter, where _are_ you?"

As if a prayer had been answered, the door to the kommandant's office opened, and the short major himself marched in. He saluted Burkhalter, who returned a quick one in return.

"Hochstetter, what have you learned?" The general questioned, more sounding like a demand.

"We have located Klink not too far from his stationed base," Hochstetter said.

"You found him?" Hogan remarked, wanting to know more.

"Where is he, Major Hochstetter? Tell me where Papa is!" Kalina begged.

"He is at the 74th Army Division Hospital in Stalingrad. A few miles east of his base," the major reported.

"Hospital!" The American exclaimed.

"What for?" Newkirk asked.

"You will not like it, _Herr General_," Hochstetter said.

"Just tell us why Klink is there, and that's an order!" Burkhalter demanded.

"He is very ill, _Herr General_. He suffered a severe abdominal injury by gunshot. He's suffered a hemorrhage and gone under a major operation to save him. He's in a coma and nothing else is known about his current condition."

"No," Klink's daughter. "No, no, no!" She began to cry, and Hogan took her protectively in his arms.

"He's alright. He's going to be alright," the colonel promised.

"Papa...I need to see my Papa."

"The fake distress call was a set up for someone to attempt premeditated murder on Klink. As for who it is, we are currently unsure of. All we know is what one of the men on Klink's rescue team reported seeing." Hochstetter continued.

"What might that be?" Burkhalter asked.

"He reports to have seen a tall man in a black fedora with a suit and tie. He had dark framed glasses, assumed brown eyes, and a non-registered colt M1911A1 found a few feet from where Klink was reported to be shot. They suspect that he may have associations with the Mafia based on what they saw at the scene of the crime."

"Which I find even _more_ suspicious. Klink had no affiliation with the Mafia. He was extremely against what they did for a living and called them 'cold blooded murderers.' The only way someone with the Mafia would have been responsible for Klink's attempted murder was if he was hired by someone here in Germany. Someone that hates Klink enough to kill him in order to get rid of him."

"General Burkhalter," Kalina sniffled. "What is the Mafia?"

"It is better that you remain not knowing that answer. They are a group of men you do not wish to get involved with," the general answered.

"I and two of my men are going to Stalingrad tomorrow night to start an investigation and find the man who is responsible for all of this," the major said.

"I wanna go with you," Kalina said, wiping her very wet eyes.

"I'll go along with her, General," Hogan added.

"_You_ two? To _Stalingrad_?" Burkhalter replied, the whole thing sounding insane to him.

"Sergeant Schultz can go along with us to keep watch. There's nothing we can get away with when that hawk's around," the American said. "Besides, it's not like Major Hochstetter is going to leave us unattended at any moment."

"Hogan, I thought I would never say it, but you need a vacation."

"Please let me go, _Herr General_. Please let me be with Papa. I wanna see him," Klink's daughter said.

The general looked at the two of them for a long while and saw the look in Kalina's eyes. She needed to be with her father, and Klink probably needed to be with her if he were to wake up and recover from what sounded like near fatal injuries. He let his expression soften a bit and let out a breath of air through his nose.

"Alright. You three along with Major Hochstetter will leave tomorrow evening for the train station. Pack a small suitcase if you wish. You two will need things at the hospital to keep yourselves busy while Hochstetter and the others investigate this case," he answered.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, General," Hogan said, with a nod.

"_Danke_, General Burkhalter." Kalina added, with a respectful bow.

"You two and Corporal Newkirk are dismissed. I wish to speak with Major Hochstetter and get Schultz to discuss the investigation in more detail," Burkhalter said.

The two prisoners and teenager gave Burkhalter a salute, then the three made their way out of the office and headed back for barracks two.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

"Stalingrad?!" Carter exclaimed, he and the others sitting at the table listening to what their commander and Kalina had just reported.

"Colonel, you two will get _killed_ out there. We don't know what kind of dangers are in Russia," Baker said, expressing his genuine concern.

"Mate, their going to a hospital. How dangerous could _that_ be?" Newkirk asked.

"Newkirk's right. Hochstetter, his men, and Schultz will carry out the investigation, and we'll do one of our own in the hospital." Hogan replied.

"How are you two going to conduct an investigation inside the hospital?" LeBeau asked.

"We'll think of something. Right now we have to go to Stalingrad and see what kind of condition Klink is in. It didn't sound good according to Hochstetter." The colonel explained. "Besides, with the two of us there and the rest of you here investigating, we might find the one responsible for this faster than if we _didn't_ go to Russia."

"I'd suggest you two bring a gun along, but there's no way you two will get by with Hochstetter going along," Kinch said.

"Then we'll just have to fly solo then and let Hochstetter do the dangerous work...though I _hate_ the idea of him doing work for us," Hogan answered.

Kalina sniffled and swallowed a large knot in her throat.

"I hope Papa's okay," she whimpered. "I don't _want_ him to die."

"Your father's a strong man, hon. He's not gonna give up without a fight. He'll wake up from his coma, and you two will be reunited again," Hogan said sincerely.

"I hope," Klink's daughter answered, sadly.

The colonel brought her close and held her tight. He tried to rub the back of her head like Klink had, but it only made tears begin to stream down her face. She was scared. Scared and frightened. She may have been a lot more courageous than her father was, but there was one thing that terrified her, and it was to the point of her crying out in mercy and begging to not face it: losing her papa. She could face another military officer. She could face deadly weaponry. She could face a dangerous animal, and she could face the Gestapo. But she would never be able to face living in a world without her father in it. In fact, it almost resembled the same characteristic a pistol had: it had enough power to kill her.

* * *

Around 6:00 the next evening, Schultz was making enough room in the trunk of Hochstetter's car for his suitcase, the major himself was on the porch talking with Burkhalter, and Hogan and Kalina stood silently behind the fluffy sergeant while they waited to put the teenager's small suitcase inside the vehicle as well. Like Hochstetter, Kalina had not packed much for their trip to Russia. She had a spare outfit, her sketchbook and pencil case, a book, 68 marks, and a couple hygiene products: her toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush.

Seeing her discomfort, Hogan rubbed the little girl's back as Schultz took her suitcase and put it into the trunk.

"We'll be there with him soon. He'll wait for us until we get there," he said, soft.

Kalina sniffled and did not answer. She continued to stare down at the ground.

"He's in one of the top military hospitals in all of Europe. They'll take good care of him for you until then." The colonel continued.

"What if he doesn't wake up, Colonel Hogan?" She whimpered. "What if his injury is too…" She could not finish. The tears were burning in her eyes just thinking about it. She got another pat on the shoulder with a couple of hushes.

"He can do it, Kalina. Your father has beaten much worse. Just look at what horrors he successfully took on in his life so far. World War I, almost being executed by the Gestapo, the influenza pandemic, Germany's Great Depression, he conquered it all. A gunshot wound in the gut will be _nothing_ for him," Hogan said, with encouragement.

The teenager nodded and put on her brave face. She had to be strong for her father now. He needed her to fight for him like he had done for her. _She_ now had to be the one to protect and defend.

Hogan gave her a smile, then frowned at what he saw. Underneath the back of Kalina's dress was a dark line peaking out ever so slightly onto the part that met between the back of the head and spine. It was dark and looked as if it recently appeared there.

"Kalina, you've got another one of those marks on your back," the American said. "You alright there?"

She seemed to freeze for a moment, as if she were trying to think of a lie. The small Klink finally answered.

"I'm alright...I just...fell into a bookshelf last night while walking to the bathroom. I'm a klutz when it comes to those kinds of things."

"You did _not_ get that nasty mark from falling into a bookshelf. Now how did you get that mark on your back?" Hogan ordered, putting a fist on his hip.

Kalina did not answer. She simply went inside the car without another word. The whole response had Hogan growing with suspicions. She was definitely lying about where she was getting the two dark marks from, but the question was where were they _really_ coming from? And then there was the other part of the puzzle. Whenever someone confronted her about the subject, she froze and struggled to give an answer. As if the real answer was a death sentence for her. She was afraid of something. _Someone_. But who? He decided to not push it for the night, sighed, then stepped inside the back of the car and closed the door behind him.

"I want you and your men to do everything in Gestapo efforts to locate and apprehend the offender of this outrageous crime," Burkhalter commanded.

"We will leave no stone unturned to do so if necessary," Hochstetter answered firmly.

"And keep Kalina protected at all costs. I don't like the looks of those marks on her neck. If my suspicions are correct, I will need you for another assignment."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_. One of my men or myself will be nearby at all times."

"And, Hochstetter. When you have time, I would like you to do a background check on Koch. I wish to see if he is indeed mentally stable enough to work in the military. Something is off about him, and I don't like it."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_."

"_Gut_. Good luck, Hochstetter."

"To you as well, General."

The two officers saluted one another, then the major marched down the stairs of the kommandantur, stepped inside the car, and Schultz closed the door as he went next. Soon Hochstetter's car was pulling out of Stalag 13 and heading for the train station.

Across the compound, the men of barracks two were watching the whole exchange between everyone. The minute the Gestapo staff car was out of camp, Carter closed the door, and he, Kinch, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Baker all got into a small huddle.

"What do we do now, Kinch?" Baker asked.

"Baker, I want you to radio Otto. Tell him to do a background check alongside Burkhalter's on Koch. I want copies of the files he's able to recover and brought here to Stalag 13. After that, contact the underground in Russia and tell them to start investigating Stalingrad for possible suspects of Klink's attempted murder. They are to report back to us within 48 hours or earlier with an update," the head radioman said. (1)

"Right, Sir," Baker said, and hurried into the tunnels.

"Kinch, how are we and Hochstetter's men gonna find this guy? I mean, we don't even have a _name_ of a possible suspect," Carter stated.

"You heard what Newkirk and the Colonel reported. The man one of Klink's combat members saw was a very tall, thin man wearing a black fedora and suit, had dark framed glasses, dark hair and eyes, and found a gun primarily used in the Mafia near the area he was seen in before taking off. I want to see if Koch has any ties or affiliations with the Mafia, or if he knows someone that has the connections_ for_ him." Kinch explained.

"And if he _does_?" LeBeau asked.

"Then we're gonna have to radio the underground in Italy and see what organization Koch has affiliations with. We can then start narrowing in on suspects once we have a smaller range of people to look at," the staff sergeant said.

"And Klink?"

"What about our Bald Eagle?" Newkirk asked.

"For ours and even more Kalina's sake, I'm praying he's a lot stronger than what he's appeared as to us," Kinch answered.

* * *

(_74th Army Division Hospital: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

"I can't believe they lost my luggage," Hochstetter gnarled, as he, his two soldiers, Hogan, Kalina, and Schultz made their way inside the hospital emergency room. It was about 1:00AM the next night when they arrived in Stalingrad, and it was already proving to be a dreaded trip. The air was sharp and bitter, snowflakes were falling almost twenty four-seven, and they had not had a decent meal since they left on their train from Moscow eleven hours prior. "I want everyone on that train to be shot and sent to the Russian Front!"

"Oh, come on, Major. Nothing in there could have been _that_ important," Hogan answered, certain the short man was overreacting as usual.

"Not important!" Hochstetter remarked. "All my spare uniforms, documents from Headquarters, and an autographed picture of Marlene Dietrich were in that suitcase!"

Hogan, Schultz, and Kalina raised their eyebrows and looked at the man as if he had just grown a third arm. Making him realize what he just said, Hochstetter cleared his throat and calmed his demeanor by the slightest.

"For investigative purposes of course." He retorted.

As the American was about to respond with something, a doctor, an old man around his early fifties, approached the small group. He had graying black hair that was extremely thin, wore glasses, and had anything but a welcoming aura to him. He did not frown, yet he did not smile. His dark brown eyes appeared dead and lifeless, and he had a stethoscope wrapped around the back of his neck.

"Can I assist you four with anything this evening?" He asked, flat.

"We're looking for a Colonel Wilhelm Klink. He was brought in about four nights ago by Luftwaffe paramedics," Hogan said.

"Are you immediate family of his?" The doctor replied, his eyes sending a haunting chill down all of their spines.

"He is my brother," Schultz answered, with a grin.

"I'm investigating his attempted murder," Hochstetter warned.

"He's my father," Kalina said.

"I'm his cousin." Hogan added.

The man glared at them for a long while, seeing only Kalina displayed similar facial features to what Klink had. In order to get them out of his hair, though, he sighed and went behind the reception desk to pick up the phone.

"Dr. Nussbaum, come to the emergency room lobby, Dr. Nussbaum, come to the emergency lobby," the doctor said, and hung up. Another medic soon appeared from behind two doors leading to another part of the hospital and made his way to the man who had paged him. He was around twenty nine years old, tall and slim, had slick black hair, and dark brown eyes. He was very handsome and looked like he could woo just about any woman he wanted. He made little Kalina smile shyly and blush a bit.

The old doctor pointed in the direction of the small party, then walked off to take care of other duties. The young doctor remaining, Dr. Nussbaum, walked over towards Hogan, Schultz, Kalina, and Hochstetter, and stopped a few feet before them.

"You four are here to see Colonel Klink?" He asked. He was much more friendly and welcoming.

"_Jawohl, Herr Doktor_. I am his brother, Hans." The Luftwaffe guard lied, continuing his act.

"You are the Colonel's brother?" Nussbaum gasped.

"_Jawohl_."

The teenager looked at her friend for a moment, then turned to look back at the nice doctor before her.

"Where is he? Where's my Papa? Is he alright?" She asked, shaky.

"I will take you all to him and explain more on the way. Walk with me," Nussbaum answered, gesturing with his hand towards the way he came.

Hogan and Kalina walked alongside the doctor, while Schultz, Hochstetter, and the two Gestapo soldiers walked behind the medic down the hospital hallways.

"I'm afraid _Herr Colonel_ suffered another abdominal hemorrhage last night. He spent almost four hours in surgery because of it," Nussbaum began, wearing an empathetic frown.

"No!" Kalina wailed, fighting back from crying.

"What happened?" Hogan asked, wrapping an arm around the child.

"The blood vessels in his stomach, liver, and surrounding abdominal muscles are extremely weak from the damages the bullets caused from his gunshot wound." The medic explained.

"You mean bullet."

"No, I mean bullets. Colonel Klink took two to the abdomen and immediately lost consciousness from shock and blood loss. One hit him in the stomach and surrounding muscles, and the other hit him in his liver. 40 percent of his liver had to be removed due to how severely wounded it was. The portion we removed was beyond saving, but fortunately the liver can regenerate back to full size in about six months. He lost almost a third of his blood on arrival and at one point during his first operation went into cardiac arrest. Had he been found or brought in any later than he was, he wouldn't have made it. One of the blood vessels we repaired ruptured last night and had to again be sewn together."

By that point, she could not fight anymore. Kalina broke down and cried at what she was hearing. Her sweet papa fighting from such a horrendous injury. In a coma and barely hanging onto life by a thread. Who would want to do such a terrible thing to someone she felt others needed to act more like? Who would shoot and try to murder Klink? Hogan brought her close and held her tight to calm her. Even Nussbaum gently rubbed her shoulder.

"He has done very well so far, _Kleine_. He has beaten the high odds against him this far. Me and my colleague are going to do everything we can to make sure your father is well and comes back to you again," Nussbaum promised.

The only answer he got was more crying and Kalina burying her face into Hogan's side.

"And his coma?" The colonel questioned. "Is he still in it?"

"Unfortunately. He will not respond to any sort of stimuli: sound, touch, eye movement...nothing has worked as of now. Perhaps hearing his little girl's voice will do the trick, though. People are known to have much higher rates at waking up from their coma if someone continuously talks to them." The medic answered.

"If anyone can do it, it is my brother Wilhelm. He is the strongest, bravest man I know alive. He has never had a successful escape from his camp, _Herr Doktor_!" Schultz proclaimed, trying to sound as arrogant and uppity as Klink himself was. He felt the more he resembled Klink, the more he could sell the act of being his brother.

"Alright, don't turn _into_ Klink, Schultz." Hogan muttered to the sergeant, as Nussbaum continued to lead them on to the kommandant's room.

"Why? Was that too much?" The fluffy sergeant replied.

Hogan shook his head, then they resumed walking with Nussbaum.

Eventually the group came to a halt at a room with a sliding glass door and light blue curtain shielding the occupant out of sight from people walking back and forth in the hall. Klink's caregiver stepped inside and off to the left. He looked back at them, primarily Kalina, before he allowed them to enter.

"She's not going to like what she sees in here." He warned, looking at the American.

"She's a tough girl. She'll be alright," Hogan said.

Kalina's lip began to quiver, and her pupils were dilating with anxiety.

Nussbaum nodded sadly and gestured for the group to come in.

Hogan, Schultz, Kalina, and Hochstetter quietly made their way inside, and their eyes nearly fell out of their heads at the sight.

Klink lay deep in sleep covered up with blankets and sheets in his hospital bed. He wore a white hospital gown with black diamonds and a thin blue collar along with his watch and hospital bracelet on his left arm. On his right arm was an IV in his hand with gauze and tape strapped over it and another one with blood going into the crook of his arm. Heart monitor wires and another IV came out of the upper left side of his gown, and an oxygen mask was over his nose and mouth. His belly was extremely swollen, and his right hand rested on top of it. Coming out of the sheets was a red rubber tube that drained harmful bacteria out of his abdominal wound. His skin was a creamy pale, and his eyelids were a dark purplish black color. The ailing colonel looked more dead than alive.

The whole thing sent Kalina bawling and ran towards her father. She wrapped her arms gently around his neck, buried her face into his right shoulder, and continued to heavily cry. Even Hogan and Schultz were on the brink of tears. Hochstetter remained in great shock and was not exactly sure _how_ to respond.

Nussbaum frowned and bowed his head slightly.

"I'll leave you four to be alone with Colonel Klink," he said, soft, then exited the room silently.

"Papa...Papa...your belly's all big." Kalina sobbed, holding on tighter to Klink. Hogan soon began rubbing the girl's shoulder and back for comfort as he looked down and shook his head.

"Oh, Kommandant...what did they do to you?" He asked, with intense pain in his chest. He felt as if this was all his fault. Had he not fallen for Becker's trap, Klink would have never went to the Russian Front. They would all still be back at Stalag 13 carrying out business as usual. Hogan and his team causing mischief and the guards grief, Schultz trying to look the other direction when he suspected trouble in a situation, the kommandant shaking his fist in fury and bellowing the Senior POW's name in his unique fashion. All of that along with Kalina's father now might be lost, and it was all his fault.

"We are here, _Herr Kommandant_...we are here," Schultz said, tears streaming down his face. Sure Klink had yelled at him numerous times and called him a _dummkopf_, ridiculed his laziness and intelligence level, but he had been a kind and humane commanding officer. He was nowhere _near_ as bad as Koch was. Klink did not scream at him or threaten to beat him or the other guards. He had never threatened to slit his throat open, and he never believed in violence being the answer to a solution. He may have had his many moments as a pompous, egotistical jerk, but he was gentle. He wanted to help the men under his command and others that needed him. If Schultz lost his commander without ever telling him he had always had a bit of respect for him, the sergeant would never forgive himself.

"We'll find who did this to you, Kommandant. Major Hochstetter, General Burkhalter, Schultz, Kalina, and I won't give up until they're found...come back to us, Kommandant...we're not ready to lose you yet," Hogan said, doing his best to remain hopeful.

The American continued to rub Kalina's back as she continued to hug her papa and cry. Schultz wiped his teary eyes with his handkerchief and sniffled once and awhile, and Hochstetter hung his head and grew quiet. The room soon was silent, and the four closed their eyes while saying the same prayer: that Klink would wake up and come back to them again.

* * *

(1) Otto Heidleman is the leader of the German underground and a character I created. He has been used in several of my stories in the past and is a good friend of Hogan's.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay, guys. So here's the deal. I'm going on vacation to Mississippi next Friday, so tomorrow I'm going to be ridiculous busy shopping for clothes, swim suit...so on and so on. Because of this, I'm posting tomorrow's chapter tonight. Consider it a little treat. Hope you enjoy, and as always, leave me a review! I love reviews. :)

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany_)

The Gestapo officer Hochstetter had left in charge of the Germany investigation, Major Rainer Krause, plopped a tiny portfolio on the kommandant's desk before Burkhalter, who stared at it as if he was about to explode. He turned his eyes upward and glared at the six foot man before him.

"This is it?" Burkhalter retorted. "_This_ was all you were able to get back from the Luftwaffe air base in Stalingrad?"

"I have sent the request for more information than this, but am currently waiting for confirmation. The Luftwaffe officers seem to want this kept under the radar for some peculiar reason," Krause answered, his midnight blue eyes flickering like flames of fire. He was just as frustrated about the situation as the general was.

"I don't care what you assume, get me those documents I requested from Berezin at once! I don't care if you have to threaten to shoot someone to do so!" Burkhalter yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.

"Forget it, General. Why would one of our air bases release such information? If it got out to the public, our entire organization could gain a terrible reputation from something like this," Koch remarked, wishing everyone would just drop Klink's attempted murder case already.

"KOCH!" Burkhalter bellowed. "When I want an opinion from you, I'll ask for it!"

The kommandant's eyes blazed and gripped onto his riding crop tighter like he was about to use it as a weapon, but saw Fehrenbach carefully watching him, his pistol aimed steady at Koch if he needed to fire. Koch snarled at the superior colonel, then crossed his arms and continued to watch the exchange before him in silent fury.

The general grabbed the portfolio before him and looked at the one page report Krause had gotten from Berezin. All that was there was the time the fake distress call came in, the coordinates the radar picked up on its signal, what time Klink's rescue team left base, and the time the three men returned with Klink's unconscious body. There were a few details of what took place at the hospital upon the colonel's arrival and the procedures that had been done on him to revive him and aid his injuries, but there was nothing more.

"This is nothing more than a medical report," Burkhalter stated.

"As I said, _Herr General_, I ordered to get more information from Berezin and threatened with Major Hochstetter dealing with them if they wished to continue denying my requests. I will get those documents even if I have to fly to Stalingrad myself and demand them over into my possession," Krause said, a bit of a bark to his voice.

"You will stay here and let Major Hochstetter deal with the Stalingrad investigation. Until we hear back from Berezin, we will have to go off with what we have." Burkhalter looked over the document again, when he spotted something off in the report. "Wait a minute," he said. "These coordinates. Are you sure these are the correct ones of the fake distress call's location?"

"_Jawohl, Herr General_," the major answered, showing no expression to his face. "I double checked when I called for more information to be released to the Gestapo."

"Unlike you, Berezin has appeared to fail at that skill. These coordinates are not located in Russia. They are coordinates located in Germany."

"You mean this call never even took _place_ in Russia."

"Precisely. Whoever made that fake distress call is someone within our own country. Could even be another Luftwaffe officer. Would it be possible to get a taping of that distress call from Berezin?"

"I would need to get a hold of the black box they took the call on."

"I will call and put in the request. As for you, Krause, I want you to wait for that phone call back from Berezin and look into Colonel Klink's background a little. Try to see if you can find anything about possible enemies he has made in his past...though I don't know how a man with such incompetence would be _capable_ of doing so."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_. I will do that the minute they call."

"And if they _continue_ to refuse handing over those documents, tell them the next phone call they receive will be coming from the _Fuhrer_ himself."

Krause gave a sharp saluted with a click of his heels, then made his way into the outer office and waited for the phone to ring.

"Koch," Burkhalter said, turning to his subordinate. "Why don't you go patrol around the camp and make sure the prisoners are acting in line."

The kommandant gave a sharp salute, swung his riding crop underneath his right arm, then exited out of the building. The minute the outer office door was heard closing, Fehrenbach looked back at the general and put his pistol back into its holster.

"Something is extremely off about that man, _Herr General_," he said.

"I agree. His low concern for Klink's well being is also strange. I'm beginning to wonder if he has some sort of part in this entire ordeal." Burkhalter replied, looking off in the direction Koch had gone in.

"You think he's _capable_ of executing such a horrendous crime."

"Perhaps. From what I remember Kalina telling me, Koch has beaten, starved, and sometimes threatened with slit to the necks of the prisoners and occasionally one of the guards if they were misbehaving. He has no regards to the Geneva Convention and even has appeared to violate Luftwaffe codes of conduct since becoming the kommandant of Stalag 13. Fehrenbach, have you happened to notice anything strange about Koch since being assigned here?"

"The little one, Kalina. She appears to be extremely intimidated and frightened of Kommandant Koch. So frightened she even wished to sleep on the floor of my room one night. She does not question anything he tells her to do no matter how absurd it is and falls completely silent the minute he brings out his riding crop. I have never seen a little teenage girl act in such a strange way like the way she does with Koch. She also stays very close to your side whenever you come here to visit. As if you protect her from something she's scared blind of."

"I have reason to believe Koch is physically abusing Kalina for means I do not know of currently. Unless I get solid evidence or a confession from either Koch or Kalina, I cannot convict him for it."

"Do you wish for me to dig into the matter, _Herr General_? See if your suspicion is correct."

"It wouldn't hurt. At the moment, he's the only suspect we have. Until we can get those documents and black box recording from Berezin, we have nothing to go on. Maybe you can clear a few things up for us until then."

"I will do my best, _Herr General_."

"_Gut_. Start at once, Colonel. You're dismissed." Burkhalter gave a firm salute, received one in return, then watched Fehrenbach leave the office. The minute he was to himself, the general rubbed his eyes with his hands, ran them down his cheeks, and sighed heavily as he felt a massive headache coming on. "The next time I transfer someone to the Russian Front, I am transferring _myself_."

* * *

(_74th Army Division Hospital: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

Hochstetter stood at the reception desk outside of Klink's room speaking with one of his men. He had his eyes and ears only focused on the Gestapo corporal before him, when Hogan walked by carrying a bottle of root beer in one hand and a large chocolate chip cookie in the other.

"Major Hochstetter," he called out.

The major turned around with an irritated look, saw it was his arch rival, and frowned even more.

"Hogan, what is the meaning of this? You're supposed to be with Kalina!" Hochstetter growled.

"One of your men are guarding the room. It's not like I left her all alone," the colonel answered, getting another growl from the man in response. Hochstetter spotted the drink and cookie in Hogan's hands and stared at him as if he had gone mad.

"What is _that_?" He demanded.

"Just something I picked up for Kalina in the cafeteria. Thought she could use a little snack since she missed lunch. How's the investigation going, by the way?"

"Why would it matter to you? You must be _thrilled_ Klink may die."

"Can't I be worried about a little girl who might lose her father?"

"I do not have time for any of your shenanigans. Now go back to Klink's room and stay there while _I_ worry about the investigation. Corporal Balzer and I are in the middle of an important conversation regarding the updates in the colonel's attempted murder."

Hogan raised his eyebrow and read right through the major's aggravated demeanor. Nothing. They had nothing so far.

"You don't have any leads, do you," the American stated flatly.

Hochstetter shook his finger and was about to give his remark, when he dropped his finger and gave a sigh of resignation.

"No...no, we have no leads so far," he said, dim.

"Have you checked the black box?" Hogan asked.

"Black box, _what_ black box?"

"Come on, Major, don't go pulling my leg here. The black box at the air base the distress call came in on. Surely you already plan on listening to the recording and pinpoint the voice's owner from further analysis. If not able to pinpoint the man on the distress call, at least able to see where the exact coordinates the call came from and go from there. Quite brilliant might I say, Major, _brilliant_."

Hochstetter pursed his lips, put his right fist on his hip, and fell silent for a brief moment before nodding.

"_Ja_, I was just going to suggest that to Corporal Balzer," he said, then turned back to face his corporal. "Go to Berezin immediately and request the black box that distress call came in on."

"But _Herr Major_, it will be under high security by the Luftwaffe! I couldn't get a hold of it if I _tried_!" Balzer exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock.

"_Dummkopf_! Tell them they are to hand over that black box recording at once, or I will have every last one of them shot!" Hochstetter bellowed.

"_Jawohl, Herr Major_!" Balzer trembled, with a strong salute and quickly made his way out of the hospital. The minute his man was gone, the major grumbled to himself.

"Why did this investigation have to take place in a hospital? I _hate_ hospitals. I've never liked them! People come here, and they die," he said, with outrage.

"You afraid of them or something, Major?" Hogan asked, feigning concern.

Hochstetter shot Hogan a dirty look and stood as tall as he could.

"The Gestapo is not afraid of anything!" He remarked, fell silent, then looked off to his right. "But _this_ one is." He murmured, and walked off to find the cafeteria.

The colonel shook his head, then headed back for Klink's room. He nodded to Hochstetter's man guarding the door, went inside, then sat down beside Kalina after placing her root beer and cookie on the over-bed table.

"Got you some root beer and the biggest chocolate chip cookie I could find to snack on. Everyone always feels a little better with a full stomach," he said, with a friendly grin.

Kalina gave a sad smile and nodded at her friend.

"_Danke_," she said, then looked back at her father.

"How's he doing?" Hogan asked.

"I don't know...he doesn't do anything but lie there."

"He'll wake up soon. Just give him a little bit. The poor man just went under two serious operations and almost bled out to death after all."

"Colonel Hogan...do you think he can hear me? Me telling him how much I love him and want him to wake up again?"

"I think he might be able to. Don't give up because he won't respond to you right now. People in a coma take time before they're able to respond to sound and touch."

The teenager did not answer. She just sat there in silence.

The American hesitated with his next question, but he had to know. If his suspicion about the marks on Kalina's back were true, then there was nothing he could do unless she confirmed it. There would be no way of getting rid of Koch if she did not come clean. He had to be firm to get an answer out of her, but not enough to scare her to the point she felt she was being verbally attacked.

"Kalina," he began. "Those two marks on your back...where did you really get them from?"

"I told you. I fell and banged myself on the stairs leading into the kommandantur," she answered, after a brief moment of silence. As if she were considering to tell him the truth, but was too afraid to do so.

"They look more serious than something you would get from falling down a couple stair steps. They came from somewhere else, and I wanna know _where_."

"I...I can't...he'll do it again otherwise."

"He who? Do what again?"

The girl shivered a bit and swallowed a large knot down her throat.

"Colonel Koch," she said, just barely above a whisper.

"You're afraid of him, aren't you." Hogan replied.

Kalina nodded, her pupils big and resembling a small, frightened puppy.

"He's not here, Kalina. He'll never know about this conversation. And if he's doing what I _think_ he's doing, he's never gonna lay another hand on you again."

"What do you think he's doing to me?"

"Hitting you...I don't know with what, but I think he's hitting you instead of you falling down stairs and banging into bookshelves during the middle of the night."

"He...he…"

"I'm right here, hon. Schultz is here, and Hochstetter's here. We're not going to let anything happen to you."

Kalina's lip shook a bit, then she let out a shaky breath of air and confessed.

"Yeah...your suspicion's right...if I don't follow his orders or don't meet up with standards, he strikes me with his riding crop. Sometimes it's just once, most of the time it's five or six times straight...sometimes even more...I don't wanna be hit by him anymore, Colonel Hogan, I don't want him to hit me anymore. He said something really bad will happen to me if I told anyone about this...I don't want him to do something really bad to me," she said, croaking the last part.

Seeing how frightened she was, Hogan gently rubbed her back.

"He won't. I won't let him...would you mind if I looked at them a little? I wanna see how serious those two marks are," he said. "I won't go any lower than you feel comfortable with."

The teenager nodded softly.

"Stop a little less than halfway...it'll be enough," she answered, meek.

The colonel nodded, got to his feet, and made his way behind Kalina. He slowly unzipped the back of her navy blue sailor dress with white polka dots until he was as far as Kalina said to go. The sight before him was horrific. Almost enough to send him into tears. Dark red lines that had clotted over and had begun to scab stretched out all over the place. On her shoulders, the bottom of her neck, her little back was almost completely covered with them. They looked like they went pretty deep for whip marks and probably hurt like hell to the little teenager.

"Oh, Kalina," he said, his voice breaking. "They're all over your back." He zipped the dress back up and again sat down beside her. "He hit you with his riding crop like that?"

"You haven't noticed the blood stains on it?" She replied.

"They look like they hurt."

"Only when I bend over and bump into something...they don't hurt right now."

Hogan's sad eyes were soon replaced with determination and rage.

"When we get back to camp, Koch is _gone_. He'll get such a bad sentence, he'll be _begging_ for the Russian Front. He is _never_ gonna hurt you like that again. And if your _father_ were awake," the American made a loud whistle. "He would go after him like a rabid dog would."

"He would?" Kalina asked.

"Oh yeah. _No one_ hurts Colonel Klink's baby."

She smiled small in response, then turned to look at her father again. He was as still as could be. The only thing that moved was his chest slowly rising and lowering from breathing. The mask over his nose and mouth was the deal breaker for her. She could hardly even give him a kiss on the cheek with the thing on him. As she was about to break down, two women could be heard giggling and approaching the room. Kalina and Hogan turned their attention to the doorway and watched as Schultz walked in with a pretty nurse on each side of him. The sergeant himself was grinning with pride.

"Oh Sergeant, you are so brave like your older brother," the one on his left, a blonde, said.

"You must be so upset with him in a coma," the other one, a brunette, said empathetically.

"If anyone can wake up from a coma, it's my brother Wilhelm. He taught me everything I know, after all." Schultz lied.

"What else has he taught you, Sergeant?" The blonde asked seductively.

"Please. Call me Hans," Schultz said.

The two nurses giggled with glee and pulled him out of the room. Before he left, he turned to look back at Hogan and groaned with delight.

"Why didn't I think of this months ago?" He cried softly, then was soon gone along with the two nurses.

The American smirked while shaking his head before turning back to Kalina and Klink. The teenager gently rubbed her father's arm, carefully minding the IV and blood transfusion attached to him. Tears streamed down her face, then she lay her head against Klink's chest and buried her face into him.

"Oh, Papa…" She whimpered. Kalina sniffled a few times and held her father a bit tighter.

With Hogan looking on at Kalina in sympathy, and the girl not paying attention to anything but her soft sobbing, both failed to notice Klink's left hand slowly moved across his belly to where his daughter's was and gently placed his hand over hers.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany_)

Kinch paced back and forth across the barracks as Carter, Baker, and Newkirk sat at the table watching him with cups of coffee. LeBeau had left an hour earlier to meet with Otto and bring back the files he had found on Koch. He had yet to come back, and it was always the worst when they did not know what was taking longer than expected.

Though he remained composed and calm as usual, Kinch's brain was racing with questions and 'what ifs'. Where was LeBeau? Had he made it to the meeting place? Did Otto show up? Was he captured by a patrol? Did LeBeau get captured along with him? The staff sergeant's mind continued to think at a hundred miles per minute, when the fake bunk opened, and the little Frenchman made his way into the barracks.

"Sorry I'm late, _mon ami_. I would have got back sooner had it not been for the filthy bosche. I had to sit in a bush for twenty minutes until they moved out and went somewhere else." He explained.

"Main thing is that you're alright. Did you get the files?" Kinch asked.

"_Oui_, Kinch." LeBeau handed over the purple portfolio Otto had given him, and they joined the others at the table.

Hogan's second in command opened the portfolio and was greeted with many documents lying inside. He picked up the one on the top of the stack and read it out loud to all of them.

"_Colonel Werner Armin Koch. Six foot two, thin build, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Born February 6, 1908 in Dresden, Germany. Parents were Adolph and Klara Koch, and had no other siblings. Graduated school and college in Dresden and worked as a salesman before being drafted into the Luftwaffe in December 1939. Stationed in Hannover, Germany as an air base security guard, but seemed a bit aggressive towards the officers above him and was transferred to Berlin as a military plans coordinator. Arrived to Stalag 13 to take over command for Colonel Wilhelm Klink on October 27, 1942_."

"_Were_," Carter stated. "You mean his parents died?"

"Appears so. Both of them died in 1927, but it doesn't say the cause of it," Kinch answered.

"Isn't that a little strange that both his mum and dad died in the same year?" Newkirk questioned, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"My grandparents died the same year. My grandpa died from lung cancer in March 1932, and eight months later my grandma died from grief in November," Carter said.

"Yeah, but this doesn't seem like to be the same situation. I've got a funny feeling about it, but I can't figure out why." The Englishman replied.

"What else does it say in there, Kinch?" Baker asked.

"Military record, school transcripts, medical records…" Kinch paused in mid-sentence, when something caught his eye. "Well, isn't _that_ interesting."

"What is?" The technical sergeant asked.

"Koch's medical records. Says here he was hospitalized at the age of 17 for extreme anger management issues. A guy asked out a girl he had a massive crush on before Koch himself got the chance to do so, so he almost clubbed the kid over the head with a baseball bat," the radioman said.

"He got that upset over a _girl_?" LeBeau remarked, finding the logic behind the whole incident absurd.

"There's more. From the ages of 15-17, he was going in and out of a juvenile detention center in Dresden. Crimes such as robbery, loan sharking, attempted murder, and arson. He was constantly getting into trouble with an Italian transfer student only listed here as Signorelli. No first name or any background information on him other than that." Kinch continued.

"You think Signorelli might be involved with the Mafia?" Newkirk asked.

"If he is, then we have a huge lead in our investigation. All we need then is evidence to prove that Signorelli was the man that shot Klink and had some sort of relation to Koch. He had something to do with it, I'm sure of it."

"How do we find out more about this guy, though?" Baker asked. "You said it yourself, we don't even have a first name or place of residency to look for."

"Baker, I want you to radio General Berkman in London. Make it a code red. We need a background check on this Signorelli fellow and as much on him as possible. Tell him he was affiliated with the Kommandant during their teenage years. That should help him a bit. Then radio Richard and ask him for the cause of death of Koch's parents. Autopsies, death certificates, medical reports, whatever he's got. Tell him we need it, and we need it now," Kinch ordered.

"Right away, Kinch," the radioman assistant answered, and hurried down into the tunnels to start his duties.

"Kinch, you don't think Koch may have...you don't think he would...I mean to his own parents, you don't think he would…" the staff sergeant cut off Carter.

"After what we've read and seen here in camp, I don't deny it being a possibility."

"_Kill_ your own blokes?" Newkirk gasped.

"How do you kill your own mother and father?" LeBeau exclaimed.

"Same way he'd be willing to take the parents of another child's...shall I say the _father_ of another child's," Kinch answered.

"That is sick. That is _très malade_." The French corporal hissed. (1)

"Why would someone wanna hurt sweet little Kalina, though? She hasn't done anything to hurt _anyone_," Carter stated.

"Carter, if I had that answer, I'd be the richest man alive," Kinch said.

* * *

(_74th Army Division Hospital: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

The next day came and went faster than anyone anticipated. Klink's breathing had improved enough that he could now wear a nasal cannula, but he remained unresponsive to all senses. Touch, sound, sight, taste, smell...none of them worked. When doctors were not checking his vitals or reflexes, Kalina sat by his side either talking to him, rubbed his head like he did for her when she was sick, shaved his face to keep it clean cut like he liked it, or gave him hugs and kisses while telling him how much she loved and missed him. She even played a few records the hospital had found her, hoping listening to some music would encourage her father to wake up. He loved music. Jazz and classical were his favorite genres.

At the moment, Kalina was doing her best to sing along to the current song playing, but it was a bit difficult being it in Japanese. She had always felt better when her father had sung to her while sick or scared. She felt maybe she could do the same for him if she sang to him. It even seemed to cheer her up a bit and swayed to the melody every once and awhile. Right in the middle of her song, she was interrupted by Hogan peeking his head around the glass door and grinning wide.

"Guess who's got pizza?" He asked.

The little teenager turned to look at him and giggled silently.

Hogan made his way inside with the box of pizza, heard the song currently playing, and looked at Kalina oddly.

"Japanese?" He asked.

"Apparently it's cheap to buy here," she answered.

The American tilted his head to the side and nodded.

"Fair enough," he said.

"Where did you get pizza from? I didn't know Russia _had_ pizza." Kalina questioned.

"Oh, I ordered it from a place down the street from here. Good thing they deliver, though. It's snowing cats and dogs out there. Major Hochstetter and that corporal of his probably won't get back here from Berezin until tomorrow morning at the earliest. No way they'll make it back here tonight."

"I thought the American saying was _raining_ cats and dogs."

"Works either way. Now, come on and help me eat this thing. I bought you a bottle of root beer and everything. Just the way you like it. No meat, no nothing. Just cheese."

Klink's daughter nodded, set the pizza box on the hospital bed table, then opened it and got her and Hogan each a slice. They took a bite at the same time and were blown away with how good it taste. Both of them let out a moan of delight in response.

"Oh my God," Hogan said. "This is some good pizza."

"They should teach us Germans to make pizza this good," Kalina answered. She took a sip of her root beer, another bite of her slice of pizza, and smiled while shaking her head.

"Kiddo, you haven't had _anything_ until you've had pizza from Italy." The colonel took another bite, then turned to look at Klink's sleeping form. "Kommandant, you have no idea what you're missing right now."

Klink did not answer.

"Hold on," Hogan said. "Let me try something." He got out of his chair and waved his pizza slice just barely below his German counterpart's nose. "Wake up, Kommandant...you know you want a bite of this."

Nothing. Klink remained deep in sleep.

"Dang, is he out cold. He's out colder than my Uncle Greg after thanksgiving dinner." Hogan commented.

"You haven't seen out cold till you've seen my Uncle Wolfgang the night after he goes to a casino and gets drunk beyond drunk on beer." Kalina replied.

"If I've never said it before, I really don't want to meet your uncle."

"Trust me; no one does."

The two of them softly laughed and went back to their dinner, when Schultz waltzed inside grinning from ear to ear.

"Sergeant Klink, how's life treating yah?" The American asked.

"Absolutely _wunderbar_! I have a date tonight," Schultz answered, with glee.

"_Another_ one?"

"She's a cardiovascular nurse from the fourth floor."

"Schultz, you don't even know what cardiovascular means."

"I know _exactly_ what it means. I hear it all the time."

"What part of the body does it deal with?"

The Luftwaffe sergeant opened his mouth to answer, then closed it and shook his head.

"No...no, that's not right." He grumbled, making both Hogan and Kalina laugh. "Oh, before I forget; there is someone out here to see you, Colonel Hogan." Schultz continued, as if a light bulb just turned on in his head.

The colonel cocked his head slightly to the side and raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

"Who's here to see _me_?" He asked.

"I would not question her, Colonel Hogan. She is the female version of you," Schultz answered.

Before Hogan could ask another question, a lady's voice could be heard calling for the sergeant.

"Oh, Hansi," she said.

"Coming, _liebchen_!" Schultz cried, and was soon gone.

"Colonel Hogan," Klink's daughter said, puzzled. "Who was Schultz referring to that wants to see us?"

"I wanna know the same answer," Hogan answered. He almost immediately regretted it, when the familiar figure of a slim woman wearing a dark red dress and carrying a designer purse by the strap walked in all smiles. It was Marya.

"I have come for you, Hogan darlink!" She cried, throwing her purse onto Klink's bed and held her arms up at full wingspan.

"Ah, swell." The colonel softly groaned.

The sight of the stranger made Kalina's muscles tense and wrapped her arms around her father tight while watching the lady carefully.

"Colonel Hogan, who is she?" The girl asked, shaky.

Hogan sighed before answering.

"Kalina, Marya. Marya, Kalina. The Kommandant's daughter and my newest team member."

"What a beautiful little girl. And so young!" The Russian beauty purred, then frowned. "Wait a minute, Klink had a baby?"

"Yeah, we were _all_ shocked by it. Look Marya, what do you want?"

"I come back to see you after all this time, and you're not dying from sheer desire?"

"Look, now's not a good time. Klink's very sick, and the doctors don't know if he's gonna make it or not. I don't need Kalina to have anymore stress and fear than she's already dealing with."

"Hogan darlink, that's why I'm here! To help you find the man who did this to Klink."

"If the Gestapo is having such a hard time finding him, what makes you think someone else can find him?"

"Do you know me at _all_, Hogan?" Marya remarked, narrowing her eyes.

"Marya's on _our_ side?" Kalina asked curiously.

"We _think_ she's on our side," the colonel answered.

"Can she find the man that hurt Papa?"

Hogan again sighed with frustration, then gave in.

"Alright, Marya. If Kalina wishes for your help, I'm not gonna argue with her," he said.

"Aw, I _knew_ you could not resist me," Marya answered, tracing her fingers seductively on Hogan's shoulders.

"Not in front of a child."

"Well, we better get started if we're gonna find this guy. What do we do first?" Klink's daughter asked, walking towards the two adults.

"I like this girl. So full of action," the Russian said, putting her fists on her hips.

"Marya, do you know anything about a Colonel Koch?" Hogan asked.

"Colonel Koch? Sounds like a type of cough syrup."

"He could probably use some with _his_ personality. Can you possibly get a hold of some documents on him? Criminal records, medical, things like that? Kalina and I suspect he may have been the one to or was someone involved with Klink's shooting."

"Have I ever let you down, Hogan?"

"No, but you've almost had me killed a few times."

"What's the fun of an assignment if there's no suspense?"

"Just get the documents."

"I will have them tomorrow evening. You wish to meet here?"

"Better than outside in the snow."

Marya winked her eye at her American lover, then made her exit out of the hospital. The minute she left, Kalina could not help herself but smirk a little. It did not go unnoticed by Hogan and turned to look at her carefully.

"What are you giggling about?" He asked.

"You two were _made_ for each other," she answered, with a sly grin.

"Me and _Marya_?!"

"Just you wait, Colonel Hogan. A girl's never wrong on these things."

The colonel was about to rebuttal with something, then let out a heavy breath of air and rubbed the side of his head.

"Now_ I_ need to get admitted into the hospital." He groaned.

* * *

Night came and went, and it was soon the next day. As Hogan waited for Marya's return, Kalina kept herself busy by visiting with her father or drawing in her sketchbook. That evening, however, she took out the book she had brought with her out of her suitcase and began reading it. It was a medical textbook for beginners learning medicine. Knowing how much she desired to be a doctor herself one day, Dr. Richard Klaussner, an underground agent known as Lone Wolf, had given it to her to read and study from. He even promised her that once she was sixteen years old that he would make her his intern and start some hands on learning in the hospital back in Germany.

She was currently reading about lung and respiratory illnesses and injuries while sitting by her father's bedside. The one she was reading about at the moment was a medical emergency known as a pneumothorax. It was when a part of the lung known as the pleural space filled with an abnormal amount of air caused either by a lung disease or physical trauma such as a car accident or gunshot wound in the chest or ribs. It had to be treated promptly, or the one suffering will die in a short frame of time.

So lost in her book, she failed to notice Hogan had returned from the cafeteria with his bottle of water. He stopped to see what the teenager was doing and smirked.

"Reading about medicine again?" He asked her.

"The minute you get into the heart, brain, or lungs, you lose me altogether. All of these illnesses are so fascinating to me. The circulatory system is my favorite," Kalina answered, grinning from ear to ear.

"You're a cardiology buff, aren't you."

"Oh Colonel Hogan, if I could become a heart doctor, it would be my dream come true! Doing life saving operations, helping others keep their hearts healthy...it'd be as if I died and went to Heaven."

Hogan laughed in response.

"You are gonna _love_ biology in school. You'll get to read all about the heart till your little one's content." He replied.

"Ehhhhhh, you have to dissect a rat, though. I hate rats. They're mean and full of deadly diseases." Kalina groaned.

"You might not dissect one. I dissected a frog in _my_ high school biology class."

"High school?"

"My bad. You call it gymnasium in Germany, don't you."

"Oh...that doesn't sound any better."

The colonel smirked and placed a gentle hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"Marya come back yet?" Kalina asked.

As Hogan was about to respond, the lady they were waiting for had finally arrived. Seeing her, Hogan got to his feet and made his way over to the Russian beauty.

"You get the documents?" He asked.

"And the transcript of the distress call that came in the night Klink was shot," she answered, handing over a cream colored portfolio.

The colonel looked at it admiringly.

"Marya, you're beautiful," he said, never turning his eyes from the files before him.

"I _love_ when you admire my work!" She cried, falling into Hogan's arms.

"Aw, look!" He remarked, then the two began to kiss.

Kalina could not help herself but laugh at the scene. She loved being right when it came to love. Two people with a crush on each other, setting others up with a date that went well, people who denied having feelings for someone they were actually crazy over, she was always right about her senses.

"Oh Papa, you'd be _dying_ of laughter watching this!" She giggled, while shaking her head.

Everyone was soon brought out of their thoughts the minute they heard shouting and the order for a doctor's help immediately. Hogan, Marya, and Kalina hurried out of the room and into the hallway. When they saw the scene, they all gasped.

By the nurse's station was a German soldier lying on a cot with four doctors surrounding the bed. A fifth one, one of the head medics, came racing down the hall and stopped at the top of the cot.

"What happened?" He demanded.

"Gunshot wound to the left lung. It's filling with air and could collapse at any minute," one of the doctors reported.

"Bad case of a pneumothorax in his left lung, Doctor," another said.

"Get him to OR stat. We've gotta remove that bullet and stop the bleeding," the head medic ordered.

"No!" Kalina cried, running towards them. "Forget the bullet, he needs an intercostal drain, and he needs it now."

"Ignore her, get him into OR. He's gonna bleed out otherwise," the head medic answered, turning to the team of four doctors.

"Did you not just hear me? I said he needs an intercostal drain stat! The pneumothorax will kill him before the bleeding does!" Kalina remarked, raising her voice a bit.

"Look, little girl; this isn't some joking matter right now. Leave this matter to the professionals and go back to knitting or playing with your dolls!"

Klink's daughter gave a hard glare at the head medic, one she had seen her father use on Hogan many times, then turned to one of the four doctors.

"Get a chest tube and prepare for an intercostal drain. We'll have to do it here," she ordered.

"I told you to leave this job to the professionals!" The head medic barked.

"You want him to die or not?!" Kalina hollered back, matching the same tone the sexist doctor had.

"Of _course_ I don't want him to die!"

"Then shut up, and do as I say!"

The head medic sighed with resignation, then turned to one of the doctors.

"Fine. Get a chest tube stat and do as the girl says," he said.

"Yes, Sir," the doctor said, hurried off down another hallway, and returned with the requested medical equipment. He looked up at Kalina with questionable eyes. "What now?"

"Make a small incision under the axilla to avoid any further damages to vital organs," she answered.

"Are you out of your mind, child?! What in blazes do you think you're…" the head medic paused, when he saw the nasty glare the small Klink was making. He cleared his throat and surrendered. "_Fine_. Listen to the damn kid."

The doctor did as told, inserted the tube into the small incision, and started to watch the air drain down into the bottle filled with water. Soon to all the medics' surprise, the Luftwaffe corporal opened his eyes, gasped, and began to cough violently. Another doctor gently pushed him back onto his back and began adding pressure to his wound.

"Get him into OR and keep up the intercostal drainage! _NOW_!" The head medic demanded.

The four doctors nodded and rushed the corporal down the hall to the operating room.

Once they had all vanished, the head medic turned to Kalina with wide eyes and walked towards her until he was a few feet before her.

"How did you know to do that?" He gasped, his mind completely blind.

Kalina crossed her arms and looked at the man smug as Klink did when he was showing he was the man in charge back in camp.

"Maybe next time you'll actually _listen_ to a girl who does nothing but 'knit and play with dolls'." She remarked.

The head medic gulped, embarrassed that he had been defeated by a fourteen year old, and hurried down to the operating room to start the surgery.

Hogan and Marya made their way to the hero of the night and beamed with pride.

"Way to go, Kalina. That a girl," the colonel complimented, rubbing her back.

"That was _sensational_!" Marya cried.

All the attention made Kalina blush, but appreciated the gratitude for just saving someone.

As everyone congratulated the teenager on a job well down, Klink again made a movement that no one noticed. This time, it was from great pride in his little girl. He smiled.

* * *

(1) _T__rès malade _\- Very sick


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany_)

"WHAT?!" Burkhalter bellowed, as he got to his feet and slammed his fist down on the kommandant's desk.

"I'm sorry, _Herr General_, but someone else has already taken the black box recording for their _own_ investigation," Krause said, keeping his demeanor calm and showing no intimidation.

"By _who_?"

"Unknown, _Herr General_. Berezin would not give that information. They said it was highly classified and could not give the identity away to unauthorized personnel."

"Call Berezin back and demand that black box be sent here to Stalag 13, or everyone in that air tower will be transferred to the Germany Army for combat duty!"

"I will try again, _Herr General_."

"Try harder! Or _you'll_ be joining them!"

Krause gave a sharp salute, understanding his situation, then left the office to make another phone call to Stalingrad. The minute he left the room, Burkhalter turned his eyes to Koch, who had remained quiet during the entire report.

"An outrage," the general said. "Absolutely an outrage. Who else would possibly need to hear that recording other than the Luftwaffe High Command?"

"General Burkhalter, this whole investigation is near impossible. We cannot find the man that shot _Oberst Klink_ with how little we have to go on. We don't even have a name for a possible suspect!" Koch replied, his voice rough.

"Which is why we need that black box recording. If we get possession of the distress call that came in that night, the fate of this investigation could all change."

The acting kommandant was about to protest, when a knock on the door was heard. Without permission to enter, the door opened, and a man wearing a black suit and Italian fedora stepped inside. He had slick black hair, wore glasses, about 6'3", muscular built, and had the most haunting dark eyes Burkhalter had ever seen in his life. It even gave him a slight chill that ran up and down his spine.

"_Herr General_," he began, his German accent a bit off. "I wish to speak to the Kommandant in private. Confidential financial issues of his personal bank account."

Burkhalter raised his eyebrow in suspicion and stared hard at the strange man. Something was indeed off about him, but he could not pinpoint what it was.

"Whatever you need to discuss with Colonel Koch can be discussed in front of me," the general answered.

"_Nein, Herr General_. That would be violating my contract of confidentiality between me and my client. I have it here to prove my word," the man said, handing over an official looking document.

Burkhalter took the piece of paper willingly and scanned his eyes over it cautiously. It seemed like nothing more but an official document approved by the state of Germany. Watermarks, signatures from even Hitler himself, and a notary stamped at the bottom of the sheet of paper. He could not deny the authenticity, but he still felt eerie about the whole situation. He again watched the man for any suspicious signs. He simply stood there with a deadpan look to his face, which in it itself was slightly concerning.

"It appears to be the real thing," Burkhalter answered.

The man in black clothing did not respond. He simply gawked at the Luftwaffe officer before him.

"Very well," the general said, going against his better judgment. "If you shall need me, I am outside in the other office." He got to his feet, shot a quick look at his subordinate, then exited the room without another word.

The minute Burkhalter shut the door, Koch stormed towards the man with a malicious glare. One filled with so much rage, it almost looked fatal.

"You damn blockhead, I told you to stay in hiding until the job was done!" The colonel hissed.

"It's been over a week, _Colonnello_. I shot the man just as yah ordered. I want my cut, and I want it _now_!" The man demanded, revealing a heavy Italian accent.

"You'll get your 17,000 marks and plane to Switzerland after that blasted Colonel Klink kicks the bucket. Until that happens, just stay put and keep quiet! You could have just blown our entire plot with your outrageous stunt!"

"Suppose 'e _doesn't_ kick the bucket. What if this colonel and little girl of his are able to make him wake up again."

"Then kill him with a methamphetamine overdose. I don't care what you do, just get rid of him! I've worked too hard to gain command of this camp, Signorelli! I am not about to give up now on this plan. After Klink croaks, I will make every guard and prisoner in this camp a slave and this the most vigorous labor camp known to mankind! People will _beg_ to be shot."

"And the girl? What do yah plan on doing with 'er?"

"I'll murder her. Make it look as if she committed suicide from the grief over her father."

"Yah better pray this plan of yours works, _Colonnello. Cosa Nostra_'s known to make our enemies disappear from society."

"It will work. You might as well say '_arrivederci_' to that bumbling colonel. He's as dead as a doornail."

Hearing the whole conversation from the safety of their barracks, Hogan's men turned to look at each other in sheer horror at everything they had just learned. Stalag 13. A slave and labor camp. And little Kalina. Murdered for no cause or reasoning.

"It _was_ Koch that shot Klink." Baker gasped.

"Bloody bastard _made_ the plan. It was that Signorelli bloke that did the deed." Newkirk gnarled.

"Filthy bosche. All they care about is power." LeBeau added, just as disgusted.

"He's gonna make this place a blood bath, Kinch," Baker said.

"And if Klink dies, we're all better off being shot by bloody Hochstetter," the Englishman stated.

"What are we gonna do, Kinch?" Carter asked, with growing anxiety.

Hogan's second in command let out a deep breath air, fell silent for a moment, then finally spoke.

"When I've got an idea, I'll let you all know."

* * *

(_74th Army Division Hospital: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

Marya and Kalina surrounded Hogan as he pulled out all the files on Koch from the portfolio and began reading through them one by one.

"_Colonel Werner Armin Koch. Serial number G976977 Gender, male. Height, six foot two. Blue eyes, blonde hair, 159 lbs, and born February 6, 1908. Hometown, Dresden. Parents, Adolph and Klara Koch. Troubled teenager and constantly going in and out of juvenile detention centers for robbery, loan sharking, attempted murder, and arson crimes. Hospitalized for five months at age 17 for extreme anger issues after almost bludgeoning a kid to death with a baseball bat. Worked as a salesman before being drafted in 1939. Stationed in Hannover as an air base security guard, but highly aggressive towards the officers above him and was transferred to Berlin as a military plans coordinator shortly afterwards_." Hogan read.

"Sounds like a real charmer," Marya commented sardonically.

"Says here that both of his parents died on March 19, 1927. A few weeks prior to being admitted into the hospital." The colonel continued.

"They die in a car accident or something?" Kalina asked, with curiosity.

"It doesn't say. Maybe one of these next ones have that answer," Hogan answered. He grabbed the next document, which was a death report of some kind released by Dresden Municipal Hospital. He scanned over it briefly before his eyes widened, and his jaw nearly fell from its hinges. "Holy cats!"

"What?" Klink's daughter asked.

"_Adolph and Klara Koch. Date of death, March 19, 1927_. At around 1945 hours, an emergency phone call was received reporting the Koch's residence completely engulfed in flames. First responders arrived to the scene and discovered that both Adolph and Klara were still trapped inside the house. Firefighters went inside for rescue efforts, but two firefighters who were rescuing Klara from the upstairs bathroom all died when the entire second story of the house collapsed in on itself. All three were killed instantly from smoke inhalation, severe burns, and blunt force trauma to vital organs. Adolph, on the other hand, was successfully removed from the house minutes before the second floor collapsed and was rushed immediately to the hospital being found unconscious and barely breathing. After two hours of resuscitation efforts and several medical procedures, Adolph died at 2243 hours due to complications from smoke inhalation. The cause of the house fire was discovered to have come from spilled gasoline alongside the northeast side of the house and a lit cigarette."

"_Mein Gott! Herr Kommandant_ killed his parents!"

"It doesn't say who killed them or started the fire. Looks like they were never able to discover that information. I don't doubt that idea, though."

"Poor _Herr und Frau Koch_...they didn't deserve to die in such a manner. They sound like they were, unlike their son is, very nice people."

"What else is in here…" Hogan flipped through a couple documents, landed on one that caught his attention, and picked it up to read further. "Well _here's_ something that might help us. It's Koch's criminal record."

"Robbery? Arson? Attempted murder? Is there anything else for the man to even _commit_?" Marya questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

"If you find all of _that_ surprising, wait until you hear _this_," the colonel answered. "From the ages of 15-17, Koch was constantly getting in trouble with a transfer student from Italy. Named Vito Signorelli. After graduating high school with Koch, he returned to Italy and become a Mafia boss for the Giordano Family. There's no further information about the man, though."

"Do you think Koch and this Signorelli are the ones that shot Papa?" Kalina asked.

"As of now, they're our two prime suspects. But we need more evidence to prove they're guilty, though. Although all of this knowledge and documents we now possess, it's unfortunately not enough to get Hochstetter to make a warrant for their arrests. We need solid proof if we're gonna get Koch and this Signorelli convicted of the Kommandant's attempted murder." Hogan explained.

"But _what_ is what we need to know," Marya said.

The three began to make their brains turn with possible ideas, when Nussbaum entered inside Klink's room with a grim look to his face. He was carrying a clipboard with several medical charts and reports on it. When they finally realized someone was in the room, Hogan, Kalina, and Marya all turned their heads to their right and spotted Klink's physician quietly standing there.

"Doctor. What's the update?" Hogan asked, he and the Russian lady getting to their feet.

"I'm afraid Colonel Klink's condition is not improving. His recent blood test results have shown no progress even after his two operations and breathing improvements," Nussbaum said softly.

"Ah, it's just taking longer than expected is all. The Kommandant's gonna come out of it any day now," the colonel answered.

"Papa is very strong, _Herr Doktor_. He'll open his eyes soon, I know he will," the little teenager said.

Nussbaum's expression did not change. He continued to look at them with sad eyes, hesitating to say what he had to report next. It did not go without notice by Hogan.

"There's more than that, isn't there," he said.

The doctor remained quiet for a few more minutes before again speaking.

"Colonel Klink must wake up within the next 72 hours...I'm afraid if that does not happen...I will be forced to take him off life support."

It was the last sentence that hit Hogan, Marya, and Kalina like a bullet to the chest. Their eyes widened in terror, swallowed knots growing in their throats, and could only stare at Nussbaum in response. Klink. End. Life. Three words none of them had ever wanted to hear in the same sentence.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

PART TWO:

"End life support?" Hogan gasped. "Dr. Nussbaum, you can't be serious."

"I wish I _weren't_ serious. In the last seven days, Colonel Klink has failed to make any drastic improvements in his medical condition. He is not getting better...and after suffering two abdominal hemorrhages, it doesn't look good." Nussbaum explained.

"No," Kalina quivered, tears streaming down her face. "No, you're wrong! Papa's gonna wake up again! He'll wake up again, he's _gotta_!"

The doctor swallowed a lump in his throat and fought back his own emotions. Out of all the people who he could have done this to, he hated that he was doing it to a sweet fourteen year old girl who loved her father more than life itself.

"I'm sorry, _kleine Kalina_...I'm afraid there is nothing more we can do for him," he said, shaky.

"No...no! No, Papa, wake up! Wake up, Papa, come back to me! Don't let 'em do it, Papa, wake up and come back to me again!" Kalina pleaded. She wrapped her arms around Klink's neck, buried her face into his chest, and sobbed violently.

"Dr. Nussbaum, there has to be _something_ to make the Kommandant wake up. Medicine, injections, surgery, another doctor somewhere in Europe," Hogan suggested.

Nussbaum shook his head.

"72 hours. I'm afraid that is all I can give left to Colonel Klink. I'm sorry," he said, his heart breaking in two. Before the American or Marya could say anything more, the doctor left the room, unable to listen to Klink's daughter's tear jerking crying any longer.

Hogan and Marya turned to one another, then the colonel made his way to Kalina's side and gently rubbed her back. She turned her head to look up at him through her red, wet eyes. She continued to sob as he spoke to her.

"He's gonna make it. Your father's gonna pull through this. He's faced impending death before, he can do it again. Remember when he was to be executed for those plans I put on him to give to the underground? We got him out of it, didn't we. Or when he was replaced by that Major Kohler due to an information leak coming out of camp? We saved him from that predicament, too. He's outrun death before, hon, he can do it one more time. I know he can. Colonel Wilhelm Klink's not a giver upper. He fights until there's nothing left to fight for."

Kalina turned back to look at her father, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and lay her head onto his shoulder as she prayed and begged for a miracle.

"Wake up, Papa..._please_ wake up, Papa...please come back to me." She hugged him tighter, buried her face back into his chest, and again began to cry.

* * *

Ten miles away from the hospital, Hochstetter and Balzer sat in a private room with General Drucker and Colonel Bruckner as they listened to the black box recording of the distress call that came in the night Klink was shot. As Hochstetter listened word for word, Balzer keep careful transcription of everything he heard down on a notepad.

"_Focke-Wulf Falke 679, Focke-Wulf Falke 679. Declaring emergency code one. Plane going down, request emergency rescue team on standby_," the voice called for.

"_Focke-Wulf Falke 679, affirmative. Can you state the nature of your emergency_?" The ATC receiver questioned.

"_Plane going down. Request emergency rescue team to following coordinates_."

"_Roger, Focke-Wulf 679, but state your nature of emergency._"

"_Going...down...emergency...following coordinates...help…_" The recording ended immediately with static followed by complete silence.

"I recognize that voice," Hochstetter said. "I can't recognize who it belongs to, but I recognize that voice from somewhere."

"Do you have any idea where you might have heard it before, _Herr Major_?" Bruckner asked.

"No. I will have to use a Dictaphone to take a recording and send it back to General Burkhalter in Germany. He and Major Krause will have better resources there to find the identity of this voice."

"Wait a minute, _Herr Major_," Balzer said, looking at his notes oddly. "_Herr General_, repeat those coordinates Focke-Wulf 679 gave you again."

"50.1186° N, 9.8918° E, Corporal," Drucker answered.

"Those coordinates...they seem off, _Herr Major_. Something about them doesn't settle right with me." Balzer replied.

Hochstetter took the notepad from his subordinate's hand, read over the coordinates himself, then raised an eyebrow in suspicion. He handed back the notepad, pulled out a map of Europe from his inner jacket pocket, then lay it flat on the table to examine. He again looked at the coordinates and with his fingers traced them down and left until they met one another. The point he landed on both surprised him and caused him greater suspicion. He made his eyes back to the Luftwaffe officers before him with no expression to his face.

"These coordinates aren't anywhere _near_ this place. They're the coordinates of Hammelburg, Germany." The major reported.

"Hammelburg!" Drucker gasped.

"Impossible. How did someone in Hammelburg manage to get a hold of our air base's radio frequency?" Bruckner questioned, not able to comprehend everything he was hearing.

"Get a copy of this recording to Germany immediately. The sooner, the better." Hochstetter ordered.

"I don't know when we will be able to get it there, _Herr Major_. With this snow storm in the system, there's no way of knowing when it will clear up enough to get mail and telegrams through," the colonel said, a bit shaky. Though he was much taller than the man, the Gestapo had always had a terrible effect on his confidence and nerves. Just hearing the word made him shiver with fear.

"_DUMMKOPF_!" Hochstetter bellowed, slamming his fist down onto the table. "I want that copy sent to General Burkhalter at once! Anyone who goes against my orders will be shot!"

"But _Herr Major_. How will the train get to Germany in this weather?" Bruckner stuttered.

"Find a way! I will be back tomorrow evening and expect that recording to be on its way to General Burkhalter! Now get to it, now, now now now!"

The major stormed out of the room and out of the air base with the slam of both doors. It was barely three seconds when he returned covered from head to toe in snow. So much that it was almost impossible to determine who he was. The three men that remained inside turned to the entrance, and their eyes nearly fell out of their heads when they saw the sight.

"On second thought, I think we will leave in the morning," Hochstetter said, putting his snow covered hand on his hip.

* * *

The next day came by, and Kalina did nothing but sit by her father's bedside and do everything she could think of to try and make him wake up again. Playing music, singing to him, telling him jokes or funny stories, giving him hugs and kisses while telling him how much she loved and how proud she was off him...sadly, nothing seemed to work. She would not give up hope, though. If she gave up, her father would give up. She would not surrender until he opened his pretty blue eyes again and looked at her. He was Wilhelm Klink. Klinks did not give up without a fight. That's what she had been raised hearing and learning from her family. They stood tall and strong with courage and determination for every cause they believed in, and she believed in her father's capability to wake up from his coma. Now she just had to make _him_ believe the same thing.

She continued to sit there with him in silence, when Hogan walked in and sat down beside her. The minute she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye, Kalina turned to him, and her facial expression became puzzled.

"Where's Marya?" She asked.

"She just went to find more information on this Signorelli fellow. She'll be back...she _always_ comes back," the colonel said, the last part with slight dread.

Kalina gave a soft smirk.

"You two are gonna get married someday. I can feel it," she answered.

"Marry Marya? That's more frightening than Hochstetter wearing a dress." Hogan replied.

The teenager grimaced at the image playing in her mind.

"No, I'm pretty sure Major Hochstetter in a dress is more terrifying," she said.

Hogan thought about it for no longer than a millisecond and shuddered in sheer horror.

"Yeah, you might be right on that one," he answered.

The two laughed softly, then their demeanor changed to a more grim one. The American sighed, looked at Klink for a moment, then back at Kalina.

"How's he doing, hon? Anything?" He asked.

Kalina turned her eyes to the ground and shook her head with a long frown.

"No...and I'm starting to worry he'll _never_ do anything." She replied.

"Don't let what Dr. Nussbaum said get to you. I'm sure your old man's gonna wake up soon enough. If not that, at least show some sign of response to stimuli. Just keep talking to him, hon. If he feels you giving up, he's gonna give up himself," Hogan said, rubbing her back gently.

Kalina looked back at her sleeping father and grabbed his hand gently in hers. She held it more by the fingers in order to avoid messing up his IV.

"Papa, please wake up...blink your eyes, wiggle your fingers, I don't care what it is...just do something to let me know you're in there still. I _know_ you're in there somewhere, Papa." She pleaded meekly. She closed her eyes and prayed with all her might that God would answer her and bring her best friend back.

With the little teenager's eyes closed and Hogan lost in his own thoughts, the two of them at first did not notice Klink's hand slowly move out of Kalina's grasp and made her hand become in his. The minute he had a hold of her, he gently squeezed his daughter's fingers, then relaxed his grip.

Kalina opened her eyes at the sudden pressure on her hand, and felt them grow twice in size at the sight. Her jaw dropped slightly and tried to make her brain register if it was real, or if she was simply seeing things from the lack of sleep she had been getting. She tried to speak, but her throat had gone temporarily dry. She swallowed a few times to aid the sudden dryness and finally was able to get one word out of her mouth.

"Papa?" She croaked.

Hearing her speak, Hogan came back into reality and went into shock himself. Had Klink really responded to auditory stimulus? Was he actually somewhat conscious again?

Kalina and the Senior POW looked down again to make sure they were not imagining things. Sure enough, Kalina's father again squeezed his little girl's hand. This time, he gently rubbed his thumb across her hand after he loosened his grip.

The younger Klink's eyes lit up with glee and felt her spirits rise dramatically. It was him. Klink could hear them.

"Colonel Hogan, Papa can hear me! He can hear me, Colonel Hogan, it's Papa!" She cried.

Hogan was beaming himself and hurried for the doorway of Klink's room. He leaned out into the hall and called for Nussbaum.

"Dr. Nussbaum! Dr. Nussbaum! Colonel Klink can hear us! He moved!"

The doctor in calling, along with his assistant, Dr. Konrad Fromm, came zipping down the hall and into the kommandant's room. They hurried to his bedside and looked at Kalina for a report. She looked up at them with a wide grin.

"He squeezed my hand, _Herr Doktor_. I called his name twice, and he squeezed it and rubbed his thumb against my hand," she said.

Nussbaum took a hold of the hand Kalina was holding and turned to look at his patient.

"Colonel Klink, this is Dr. Nussbaum speaking. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand," he ordered calmly.

They all waited for a minute, but nothing happened. The German colonel remained still.

"Colonel Klink, if you hear me, squeeze my hand," the doctor again repeated.

They waited another minute, but nothing happened.

"Come on, Papa. You can do it, just squeeze his hand like you did mine." The girl encouraged.

Nothing. No matter how much they talked or what they said, Klink did not respond. He was still as could be.

Nussbaum let go of Klink's hand, frowned, and turned to Hogan and Kalina, who were looking up at them in disbelief. They could not understand why the Luftwaffe colonel had once again become unresponsive. Was it a brief state of partial consciousness? Did he fall back into a deep sleep? Neither of them had an answer, but they knew they were not going to like what they were about to hear.

The doctor sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Kalina," he began. "I believe what you and Colonel Hogan witnessed was a type of involuntary movement found in comatose patients."

"Involuntary movement!" Kalina exclaimed, both she and Hogan shooting to their feet.

"Now wait just a darn good minute. There may be a lot of things that can happen to a person in a coma, but what we saw was _not_ involuntary movement! When Kalina called for her father, he rubbed her hand with his thumb as if he were saying 'Everything's gonna be alright.' Colonel Klink heard us, and we know it!" The American protested.

"If Colonel Klink actually were semi conscious and able to hear us speaking, he would have responded to my request. I apologize, Colonel Hogan, but I'm afraid it was just a couple muscle spasms. His brain is just trying to remember how to move certain parts of his body. If you excuse me, I must tend to another patient." Nussbaum explained. Without another word, the medic walked out of the room with Fromm following from behind, leaving Hogan and Klink's daughter to themselves.

Kalina looked up at her friend with big eyes shining with unshed tears.

"He heard us," she whimpered. "He heard us, Colonel Hogan, it was him. I know it."

"Just ignore them, Kalina. We know what we saw. He's nothing more than just a quack anyways." Hogan sneered, crossing his arms.

Kalina cocked her head slightly to the left and looked at the American perplexed with his statement.

"What is 'quack'?" She asked.

"Something a person calls a doctor who doesn't know what they're doing or talking about in their profession. I don't think your father would appreciate me teaching you such things though. Don't take after what I say," he answered.

"Oh," the teenager said, then looked back at her father again depressed. She leaned forward, wrapped her arms gently around him, and let out a heavy sigh before closing her eyes. "Papa...please show me they're wrong. Show me Dr. Nussbaum's wrong, Papa."

Though she hoped Klink would again squeeze her hand, she got one step better. Her father slowly placed his left hand on Kalina's arm and gently rubbed it with his thumb.

Kalina opened her eyes the minute she felt someone touching her arm, looked down to see it was her father, then turned her eyes to his face and smiled small. She gave him a big kiss on the cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck while resting her head against his.

"I _knew_ it was you, Papa," she said softly.

Hogan grinned at the sight, but was brought out of his thoughts the minute Marya came into the room and walked to his side. She put her fists on her hips and raised her eyebrow.

"Alright, what is everyone smiling over?" She questioned, making Hogan turn to face her. His smile returned and looked back at Kalina and Klink.

"The Kommandant can hear us. He's been responding to Kalina by squeezing or rubbing her hand." The colonel reported.

"Wonderful! That means he's coming back!" Marya rejoiced.

"Well, we've got a ways to go yet, but it's a good sign."

"Here's an even better sign. All the information we could want on Signorelli." The Russian handed over a portfolio filled with documents, criminal records, background information, and many other things to help their investigation. He turned to Marya and smiled wider.

"You know what, with Klink coming back into consciousness and getting these documents on Signorelli, I think this night calls for a celebration. How about we order pizza and root beer," Hogan suggested.

"Yeah, let's do it!" Kalina cheered.

"Pizza?" Marya remarked, looking at Hogan as if he had just lost his mind.

"Oh, you'll love it. Cheese, parmesan, it's like Heaven in your mouth," the colonel answered.

As Hogan prepared to make the phone call, a strange doctor, one that none of them had ever seen before, wandered into the room and started making his way towards Klink's sleeping form while carrying a filled syringe.

Her suspicion getting the better of her, the little teenager spoke up.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, just giving the colonel some medicine is all. Nothing too drastic to worry over," the doctor said. His vague answer made even more red flags pop up. Now Hogan and Marya were suspicious as well.

"What kind of medicine?" Hogan asked, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Doesn't matter what it is, does it?" The doctor responded.

The colonel and Marya turned to look at one another, made their eyes back to the 'doctor', and glared hard at him. Like two mob members ready to beat the living daylights out of an enemy of theirs.

* * *

Hochstetter walked down the halls of the hospital emergency room with Balzer to Klink's room. They had just returned from Berezin and wanted to give Kalina an update on what they had learned at the air base. The two Gestapo personnel walked casually, when they heard a loud thud and a man going 'oof'.

"Major Hochstetter!" A girl's voice cried in fear. It was Kalina.

The major in calling raced to Klink's room with Balzer taking up the rear. They sprinted inside the room and saw Hogan and Marya pinning down the phony medic.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

"Get off of me! I need to give Colonel Klink his medicine!" The fake medic demanded.

"What kind of medicine is it?" Hogan ordered.

"It doesn't matter! Get off of me!"

Kalina picked up the syringe that had rolled onto the floor by her feet. She picked it up, opened it cautiously, and sniffed whatever was inside it. The strong odor made her nose burn and caused her to cough violently for a few seconds. Whatever substance was inside that syringe, she knew already it was anything but medicine. If anything, it was poison.

"Colonel Hogan, this isn't medicine," she said.

"What is it then?" The colonel remarked, adding pressure onto the 'medic's' arm.

"I don't know what it is. It smells like ammonia though. That cleaning stuff you use to clean Papa's office windows," she answered.

Hogan gestured for Balzer to take over for him, then got to his feet and approached Kalina. He took the syringe and whiffed it. He recognized the smell almost instantaneously and turned to look back at Klink's daughter.

"This _isn't_ medicine," he said. He made his eyes to Hochstetter. "It's methamphetamine. And looks like enough to kill Colonel Klink within minutes."

Kalina's mouth dropped with horror and turned to look at the Gestapo major before.

"Gentlemen, arrest that man and have him shot," Hochstetter ordered.

"Wait a minute," Hogan said, turning to Balzer and the other soldier, a sergeant, pulling the phony doctor up by the arms. "Arrest him, but tie him up to that chair over there and guard him. He might have information on who shot the Kommandant and everything that happened that night."

Hochstetter made his eyes to his men and gestured for the chair in the corner.

Following their commander's and Hogan's orders, the two Gestapo men tightly handcuffed their prisoner behind his back, shoved him towards the chair, then roughly made him sit down and was held down by the sergeant while Balzer tied his feet and body around the chair legs and back board. When they were sure he was tightly secured, Balzer and the sergeant nodded it was safe for Hogan, Hochstetter, Marya, and Kalina to approach for questioning.

The group of four surrounded the unknown man and all looked down at him with cold, demonic like stares. It made the man shiver a bit, but tried to keep his inner feelings locked away by returning the same look.

"Alright, talk. Who are you, and why did you try to kill Colonel Klink?" The American prosecuted.

"What makes you think I'm gonna be doing any of _that_? I'm not gonna talk, you'll _never_ get me to talk!" The prisoner remarked, with a slight bark. His fierce composure quickly melted into one of mercy the minute he saw Balzer press a pistol to the middle of his forehead. He made a loud gulp, then returned his eyes to Hogan and Marya.

"Alright, I'll talk," he said. "My name's Gianni Machiavelli. I was hired by two other men to make sure _Colonnello Klink_ died from his injuries by giving him a methamphetamine overdose. I was about to do so when two people so _rudely_ attacked me."

"_Rude_," Hogan remarked. "You were about to _kill_ another person!"

Machiavelli was about to counteract his reasoning when he frowned and hung his head.

"Yeah, you make a point there," he answered.

"_Why_?" Kalina questioned, giving the man a harsh glare. "What did my sweet Papa ever do to _you_?"

"_Nothing_. He never did _anything_ to me. That's why I immediately turned down the order at first," Machiavelli said.

"So why'd you _do_ it?" The American colonel asked.

The Italian fell quiet for a moment before answering.

"Because Don Signorelli offered me 1% of the $10,000 he would get after the job was done from the other man. I was planning on going to Paris after it was done, too."

Marya raised her eyebrow at the statement.

"That's about $100." She replied.

"You almost killed my Papa just so you could get $100?!" Kalina exclaimed.

"Why? Should have I asked for more?" Machiavelli asked curiously.

Klink's daughter threw her arms against her sides and turned to Hochstetter.

"Would you please kill this man and end his stupidity?" She pleaded.

"Signorelli," Hogan said, his brain starting to turn. "What was his first name?"

"Vito. Vito Signorelli. The _capo_ of the Giordano Family," Machiavelli said.

It finally clicked in his mind, and Hogan turned to Marya, Kalina, and Hochstetter. Don Vito Signorelli. The man they were all looking for. The man responsible for possibly taking Klink's life away.

"It _was_ him that shot the Kommandant. Don Signorelli was the one that shot him that night after the phony distress call." He gasped.

"Who was the other man with this Don Signorelli?" The major asked.

"I don't know. He never told me his name. He was wearing a German military uniform, but I couldn't tell what unit he was with. I didn't know his rank either...he had the scariest blue eyes though. Could make just about anyone follow his every wish and command." Machiavelli reported.

"That's what I suspected." Hochstetter turned to the American, Marya, and Kalina. "That hoaky distress call that came in at Berezin didn't come from here. It was from Hammelburg."

"_Hammelburg_?!" The trio cried.

"The distress call Papa got was from home?" The little teenager asked, in disbelief.

"How did they get Berezin's radio channel, though?" The Russian lady added.

"I don't know. We are currently investigating the matter. Whoever is responsible for Klink's shooting has been in Germany this entire time. As for who he is, we have yet to find that out. Perhaps this Don Signorelli can lead us to him, though." The major explained.

"Colonel Hogan," Kalina said, turning to her friend with worried eyes. "You don't think that…"

"I couldn't tell you for sure, but I'm betting all my money on it. He certainly has a plausible motive for doing it, though," the colonel answered.

"He _who_?" Machiavelli asked, dumbfounded.

"Colonel Werner Koch of Stalag 13: the man we just might be looking for."

* * *

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany_)

Kinch paced back and forth across the barracks as the others watched him from the table. Newkirk and LeBeau were attempting to play a game of gin, Carter was twiddling his thumbs, and Baker was tapping a pencil on the table every now and then. They finally knew the two behind Klink's shooting, but now they had a new problem on their hands: how did they expose them to Burkhalter and Krause?

"We've got Koch right where we want him...but how do we finish the job?" Hogan's second in command asked, particularly to no one.

"I know," Carter said. "Let's just go into Klink's office and expose Koch with what we know."

Everyone turned to look at young man in silence and eventually caused Carter the creeps.

"What?" He remarked, as if he did not understand the major flaw in his idea.

"Anybody got a better idea?" Baker asked.

"Wait a minute," Newkirk said, lighting a cigarette. "What if we talked to this Signorelli bloke; lure him into a meeting and bring him back into the tunnels after capturing him?"

"How do we set up a meeting with him though? I'm not against the idea, but we can't just tell him to come into this barracks and snatch him out of nowhere," the assistant radioman said.

"Didn't those files we got from Otto say he sometimes gets another guy to do his assignments? I can't remember his name though," LeBeau suggested.

"Machiavelli, wasn't it?" Carter responded.

"That's what it was. We could pretend to be him and call Signorelli for a meeting at our usual rendezvous point. Then when we get there, we grab him as hostage and bring him back here to camp." The Frenchman continued.

"We'd have to hear a recording of his voice first," Kinch said, then turned to his English friend. "Newkirk, if we heard Machiavelli's voice, do you think you could imitate it?"

"I'll give it my best shot, mate," Newkirk answered.

"Then let's do it. Carter, watch the door," the leading sergeant ordered.

"Right, Kinch," Carter said, and quickly got to his post.

"Newkirk, LeBeau, Richard, follow me. We got a Kraut to catch." Kinch continued, banging the side of the fake bunk to expose their secret tunnel entrance.

The two corporals and Baker tailgated their current commander down the ladder, into the tunnels, and prepared for one of their greatest schemes yet.

* * *

Koch glared at the mob boss standing behind his desk. Going against his orders, Signorelli had again returned that evening to demand his part of the deal be given to him immediately. Though the Luftwaffe colonel repeated the same thing he had the previous night, Signorelli was not having it. So much that he had a pistol pointed on the German and threatened to assassinate him if he did not hand over his sum of cash.

"I told you for the last time, Signorelli, I will give you your money when that blasted Klink is dead and six feet under a pile of snow! Now stop acting like a mad man and get back into hiding at once!" The colonel commanded.

"Not without my ten grande, _Colonnello_. I've been scammed by scum before, and I assure yah I will not be scammed again. I know 74 ways to kill yah without movin' from this spot and not afraid to do a single one of them. Now hand over my money," Signorelli answered, his eyes almost completely black.

"Don't you Mafia bosses know to lay low until your plots are complete? If Burkhalter hears us, the whole thing is up!"

"I don't care what happens to you or that general of yours at this point. You promised me $10,000, and I'm not leavin' this camp without it. Now where is it?"

As Koch was about to let the man have it, the kommandant's private line began to ring. Koch started to make his way over to the phone, when Signorelli tightened his hold on the trigger of his gun. He kept it steady on the colonel's form and answered the call without his eyes ever leaving sight of his hostage.

"Colonel Koch's office," he said coolly.

"Signorelli?" Newkirk's voice asked, with a higher pitched voice and Italian accent. "It's Machiavelli. I'm here in Germany, Sir."

The mob boss's eyes narrowed and began to resemble a rabid dog.

"_Stupido stupido_, what are you doing out of Stalingrad? Yah had one blasted job and can't even do that! Where are yah?" He snarled.

"I had trouble completing the job, Sir."

"How hard is it to inject a lethal dose of methamphetamine into a man's IV and wait for him to croak?!"

"I'll explain everything later tonight. I need to meet with you though, Sir. I've gotta find another way into that hospital. It's completely surrounded by Gestapo."

"Where? And what time?"

"In the forest about two miles from Stalag 13. 2300 hours."

"_Multa_. You better not be pullin' any _una schifezza_ with me, Machiavelli." (1) (2)

"Never, Sir. You have my word for it."

"I will see you at 2300 hours. _Ciao_."

Signorelli hung up the phone and continued to gawk at Koch carefully.

"What did _that_ bum want?" Koch scoffed.

"There was a problem getting into Klink's room. I have to go meet with him to think of Plan B. I will return as soon as I'm finished with him," the Italian promised.

"I'm sure you will be."

Signorelli made his way to the office door, but turned his attention back at the kommandant once more as he pulled on the doorknob.

"And my money better be here when I get back. Or Germany will be seein' yah on the back of a milk carton!" He hissed, then slammed the door behind him.

The minute the Mafia leader had vanished, Koch took one of Klink's tea mugs and threw it against the office door. The mug shattered instantly and fell to the ground into thousands of tiny pieces. Mob boss or not, the German was not about to have anyone ruin his plans of making Stalag 13 a slave and labor camp. He could care less of what the man was capable of doing. It then brought an idea to his mind. Koch made his way over to the desk, opened one of the drawers, and grinned maliciously when he pulled out his pistol. He made sure it was fully loaded, then calmly sat down in his chair, kicked his legs up on the desk, and quietly waited for Signorelli's return.

"Very well, Don," the colonel said. "You wanna play dirty, I'll play dirty right back. And I _never_ lose."

* * *

Signorelli stealthy made his way through the dark forest as he made his way to the meeting point. Being a master at avoiding the authority, he easily slipped away to the next area without the Gestapo or Luftwaffe patrols ever hearing or seeing him. He continued on his path and finally arrived to his destination without any trouble. He pulled out his pistol and scanned the area like a hawk. He looked down at his watch. 11:00PM on the dot. Signorelli walked around the area trying to find any sign of Machiavelli. He did it for about fifteen minutes, then looked down at his watch again. 11:21PM. Machiavelli was late. _Very_ late.

The Mafia boss ground his jaw to keep his temper under control, but he could feel his blood pressure striking up to an all time high. He vowed at that moment that if Machiavelli decided to show up, he would beat the living hell out of him right before shooting him to death.

"Alright, Machiavelli. Gig's up. Where are yah, and come out with your arms over your head," Signorelli commanded.

He got no response, which made him give an evil chuckle.

"Not talkin', ehy? Very well. I'll just find your no good sorry behind myself and end this silly charade of yours," he said.

Signorelli continued to walk around the area looking for his grunt man as Newkirk and Baker came out from hiding and silently approached the man from the back. The Englishman carried a Gestapo baton in his hand, while the assistant radioman carried a mouth gag soaked with chloroform in his.

Sensing someone was following him, the mob boss started to turn around, when he was met by Baker wrapping his arm around his neck and pressing a wet rag over his mouth and nose. The man squirmed and tried to scream for help, but fell limp to the ground the minute Newkirk clubbed him over the head with the baton.

Baker got down on the ground and checked to see if the mob boss still had a pulse. When he found one, he looked up to Newkirk and nodded. The two tied Signorelli's hands behind his back, grabbed him under the arms, and began to drag his lifeless body back to camp.

* * *

(1) _Multa_ \- Fine

(2) _U__na schifezza _\- Crap


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

Newkirk and Baker dragged Signorelli down the tunnel leading to the emergency exit until they reached their prosecution room. They threw his body onto the chair and put his tied arms behind the backboard of the chair as Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau came in from the opposite direction.

"I see you caught our little rat problem there," Kinch said, crossing his arms while eyeing the sleeping Mafia leader cautiously.

"And I'm gonna exterminate the bloody bastard the minute he wakes up." Newkirk gnarled.

"Hold it," the radioman said. "I want Signorelli alive. We'll send him to London and have him serve a gruesome punishment there. First, we need him to spill everything he knows. It's our only way of exposing Koch and getting him out of Stalag 13."

As Carter was about to ask how they planned on getting him to talk, Signorelli stirred a bit, gave a muffled groan, and slowly fluttered his eyes open. At first, his vision was foggy and could not make out the five forms before him. When he finally made out he was in the presence of five Allied flyers, his eyes nearly fell out of his head, began to squirm, and made a few muffled cries before Kinch spoke.

"Rise and shine, Don. Sleep well?"

Signorelli made another attempt to free himself and scream for help, but all efforts failed.

"Forget it, Signorelli. No one can hear you from down here," Baker said coldly.

"They'll never hear you scream for mercy." LeBeau added.

The mob boss glared at all of them and shouted a few things that none of them could make out.

"Richard, ungag him," Kinch said, his eyes never leaving Signorelli's sight.

"Right, Sir," the assistant radioman answered. He made his way over to their prisoner, untied the rag wrapped around his mouth, and yanked it out of his mouth. The response he and the others got was a glare more demonic than the previous one.

"Who are you?" He demanded. "Who are yah, and what unit are you with?"

"Consider us an enemy gang to the Giordano Family," Baker said, again joining the others.

"You realize what kind of illegal things I can do to all of you? The Mafia's known for making people vanish. Never to be seen again in society!"

"You realize we know of your little group work with Colonel Koch?" Kinch remarked.

"Koch," Signorelli hissed. "That stupid German owes me $10,000, and I want it now!"

"And we want a few answers. Starting with what happened the night you shot Colonel Klink after your fake distress call."

"Who told you I shot that bumbling fool? Was it Machiavelli, I'll kill him!"

"We know you and Koch have been plotting this for months. Koch wanting his slave and labor camp, you wanting money and a one way ticket to Switzerland...plotted a whole homicide in order to do so in hopes that no one would ever catch on to the both of you. Then you hired this Machiavelli fellow to finish the job for you. And if we know the Gestapo well enough, Machiavelli's already well on his way to his sentence of facing a firing squad. So how'd you do it? What happened the night you shot Klink?"

"What do you think happened that night, I shot the damn fool! Two times right in the middle of his abdomen to cause fatal damage. We Mafia men know just the right area to shoot in order to kill someone. Yo Colonel Klink should be slowly dying from organ failure right as we speak."

"And Koch? What about him?" Newkirk interrogated.

"What about him? All that man cares about is getting his slave and labor camp. Making all you prisoners and guards follow his every wish and command without question. Shoot anyone that protests to his commands. Also plans on killing Klink's daughter when she returns from her father's funeral. Stabbing her to death and then hanging her as if it were suicide from grief." Signorelli continued.

"You two are sick. Sick, twisted, and cruel," LeBeau accused.

"That's _business_, Frenchy. Someone wants to go against us, we kill 'em. Said and done."

"Is Koch a part of the Mafia himself?" Baker asked.

"He's too _stupid_ to get involved with us. He'd make one dumb move and immediately get us all killed for it. He just wants power and knows where to go to get help attainin' that goal. Only reason I helped the man was that he promised he'd steal out of the camp budget $10,000 and give it to me along with being sent to Switzerland till the end of the war. Now untie me, and I might consider letting all of yah live!"

"We'll help you with getting out of Germany," Kinch began. "But you won't be going to Switzerland as a destination."

"How does little ol' London sound?" The Englishman asked.

"I don't _wanna_ go to London!" The mob boss remarked, terse.

"Either you go there and serve your sentence, or we turn you in to Burkhalter and have the Gestapo handle your sentence. Your pick, Don," the radioman warned.

"I choose neither. I'm getting out of here!" Signorelli replied, swung his arms over his head to free himself, and bolted down the tunnel he had been brought in through.

"He's getting away!" LeBeau cried.

"Not on my watch," Newkirk said, pulling out his pistol. "You blokes stay here. I'll bring him back even if I have to shoot him in the leg to do so." Without another word, the corporal ran down the tunnel after their prisoner, leaving his friends in growing anxiety.

"Kinch, what if he escapes?" Carter asked.

"If he gets out of here, our whole operation's through the roof." Baker added.

As Kinch was about to answer, the four of them heard one loud gunshot ring out through the entire tunnel network. Worried for the worst, they all ran down in the direction Signorelli and Newkirk had gone in, stopped halfway, and looked in shock at what was before them.

Signorelli was lying down on the ground completely stiff and lifeless. Standing over him was a stunned Newkirk holding his gun, which had a very faint stream of smoke coming out of the barrel. He turned to his friends, slowly slid the gun back inside his jacket, and walked over to them.

"Sorry, mate," he said to Kinch. "I went for the middle of his back and guess I went a little too high on accident."

"_Now_ what do we do?" Carter asked, knowing they had hit a dead end.

"Hold on a sec," the leading sergeant said, a light bulb going off in his head. "I know just how we're gonna expose Koch and get him out of here."

"How are we going to do that?" LeBeau asked.

"Newkirk," Kinch said, turning to the Englishman. "Grab out a pen and notepad. I need you to write a little suicide note from Signorelli."

* * *

(_74th Army Division Hospital: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

With Marya and Hochstetter on their separate investigations regarding everything Machiavelli had reported to them, Hogan and Kalina decided to play a game of chess. While the colonel was doing fairly well, it appeared that Kalina had little to no knowledge on how to play the game. She was managing to try, though. However, it was very difficult for both to concentrate, as Machiavelli was constantly asking to be released from custody. It seemed to be even getting on Hochstetter's guards' nerves.

"Please, Colonel Hogan. I'll even give you money."

"You nearly kill a sweet little girl's father, and you think money's gonna make us forget about your crime?" The American remarked, turning to face their prisoner.

Machiavelli fell silent for a brief moment before answering sheepishly.

"Possibly?"

Hogan glared at the man, shook his head, then made his eyes back to Kalina, who was ponderously thinking of her next move. She had played the game with her father many times and always observed his methods and strategies to win each time. She was just beginning to realize just how easy he made it seem to be. Her mind was a complete blank and not even remembering her father's skills was aiding her any.

Hogan smirked at the teenager's efforts to beat him. He could see she was trying, but he always seemed to find a flaw with her every move. When she reached for her rook and was about to move him forward, she immediately set it back in its correct spot and re-thought her strategy, making him give a soft chuckle.

"Don't overthink it, darling. You'll cause yourself an aneurysm if you keep it up," he said.

Kalina let out a frustrated breath of air through her nose and began to think again. She tapped her fingers on the table like she always did when thinking, reached down for her rook again, then decided last minute to not risk it and moved one of her remaining pawns instead.

Hogan looked down at the game board, turned to Kalina with a sad smile, then moved his queen near her king.

"Checkmate," he said.

Klink's daughter gently brushed her king onto its side and let out another heavy breath of air.

"I'm _sick_ of this game," she pouted. "I've played with Papa over a hundred times, and I've never won once...he made it look so easy though."

"You get better with age, my dear," the colonel answered.

"I'm 14, and I've been playing with Papa since I was six; I don't think age is helping me any."

Hogan again chuckled, but a bit louder, when Schultz rushed into the room and made his way towards the American officer.

"Colonel Hogan," he said, a bit out of breath. "You have to help me, Colonel Hogan. These nurses will not leave me alone."

"What, not enjoying the luxurious life of being Colonel Klink's younger brother anymore? All the kisses, snuggles, and praise galore?" Hogan teased.

"Oh please, Colonel Hogan, _please_! I haven't had a moment to sleep in peace for so long. Everywhere I go there's a nurse either bringing me fish on a silver platter, wanting to snuggle, or escort me everywhere I want to go to. I just want to lie down and sleep, Colonel Hogan, _please_ help me. I've never hated fish before so much in my entire life!"

"Alright, Schultz. Let's go see if we can't go get this all sorted out," the colonel answered, rising to his feet. The two of them were about to leave the room, when three nurses walked in and found the dreamy German hero they were searching for. One a blonde, the second a brunette, and the last one a redhead.

"There's are handsome sergeant." The blonde cooed.

"How are we feeling this evening, Sergeant Klink?" The redhead asked, her green eyes sparkling seductively.

"Please stop calling me that," Schultz whined. "Look, I am not the Kommandant's brother. I'm not even younger than he is. I made it all up so we could get in to see him."

"The younger brothers are always such shyer than the older one," the blonde said.

"But just as handsome, though." The brunette added, with a crooked smile.

"Come, _liebchen_. Let's go for a nice evening stroll in the snow," the redhead said, running her fingers gently over the top of the guard's right shoulder.

"_Snow_?" Schultz remarked, terror filled in his eyes.

"Oh, it's beautiful at night while walking along the Volga."

"I...I don't really _like_ snow."

"Nonsense. You will fall in love with the sight the minute you see it." The brunette replied.

"Come along, _liebling_," the blonde said, leading the fluffy sergeant out of the room.

"No, no, wait a minute, wait! I'm not the Kommandant's brother! I'm not the Kommandant's brother!" Schultz yelped, as he was dragged away by the three pretty nurses.

"You're on your own with this one, Schultz!" Hogan called out to his friend.

Kalina shook her head while her eyes were towards the ceiling, then looked over at her father and grew deeply concerned. Klink's skin color was a creamy pale color, and his eyelids looked darker than usual. He seemed extremely lifeless, and one could hardly tell he was still breathing.

"Papa?" She asked. "You okay there?"

It was then she heard a loud, beeping alarm begin to ring out through the room. She looked over at her father's EKG machine and saw the scanner going crazy. Klink's heart rate was off the charts, and it gradually became worse.

"Papa. Papa! Someone help! HELP!" Kalina shrieked.

Hogan rushed out into the hallway and began to bellow himself.

"HELP! WE NEED A DOCTOR!"

Nussbaum, Fromm, and two other doctors sprinted down the hall and into Klink's room. Nussbaum checked his patient's belly, while Fromm checked the heart monitor.

Hogan ran back inside and held the little teenager by his side, as she looked on in horror.

"What's wrong with him?!" Kalina cried.

"He's hemorrhaging again," Nussbaum said, ignoring her cry.

"Heart rate's rising, Doctor." Fromm replied.

"Get an OR ready, stat! His stomach's gonna fill with blood otherwise!" Nussbaum ordered, facing the two medics behind him.

"_Jawohl, Herr Doktor_," both doctors answered, and ran out of the room.

As Fromm was preparing to move the colonel's bed down to OR, the head medic quickly pulled Hogan and Kalina out of the room and a few feet back from the room. The small teenager tried to go to her father, but Hogan held her back, and Nussbaum pushed her away at the same time. She started to beg and plea to not take him off life support over the doctor's orders to stay put and that they would do everything they could to save Klink. Finally, Nussbaum hollered over her that he promised to not take him off life support and ran down the hall to where his patient was already in the operating room.

Leaving an anxious Hogan and terrified Kalina to themselves, the American held Klink's daughter close to him. Kalina closed her eyes, had tears streaming down her cheeks, and squeezed Hogan tight as she began to pray.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany-Next evening_)

"Major Hochstetter reports that a man by the name of Gianni Machiavelli has been arrested at the 74th Army Division Hospital, being held captive in Colonel Klink's room until the snow clears up, has confirmed that a Mafia boss known as Don Vito Signorelli was the one responsible for shooting the colonel the night of the fake distress call, and that both men are working under an unknown German military officer with what is being described as dead, cold blue eyes," Krause reported, standing before Burkhalter in the kommandant's office. As he gave the report, Koch stood quietly behind the Gestapo major eyeing him carefully, and Fehrenbach stood guard at the door.

"A German military officer with blue eyes," Burkhalter stated. "I suspected it to be one of our men. But who is the question. Did this Machiavelli say what branch of military service he was with?"

"Negative, _Herr General_. He could not determine the type of uniform or rank this officer held." Krause replied.

"Does Hochstetter know where this Don Signorelli _is_ by chance?"

"Negative, Sir. He has been missing for the last week and a half. No one has seen or heard from him since he was last spotted in the nearby area. I have patrols looking for him right now as we speak."

"The sooner we find this Signorelli, the sooner we might find the man behind all of this. Good work, Major. Report to me the minute you receive any updates from either Major Hochstetter or one of your patrols."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_," Krause said, with a sharp salute. He snapped on his boots, headed for the office door, when it opened unexpectedly, and two tall, macabre looking Gestapo generals walked in silently. They had eyes almost completely black, had no sign of emotion traced on their faces, many firearms strapped to their backs and holsters, and were so quiet that even Burkhalter had chills running up and down his spine.

"Gentlemen," the Luftwaffe general said, clearing his throat. "May I assist you somehow this evening?"

"I'm General Eichmann, and this is General Diekmann. We're looking for a Colonel Werner Koch," the taller of the two generals said.

Burkhalter raised his eyebrow in suspicion, as he turned to his current kommandant. The colonel seemed to be more tense than before and a bit outraged.

"Why does Colonel Koch's whereabouts concern _you_ two, General?" He remarked.

"He is under arrest for treason, illegal drug trafficking, and the possible murder of _Luftwaffe Oberst Wilhelm Klink_," Diekmann answered coolly.

"Preposterous!" Koch remarked, highly offended. "I've never heard such an outrageous statement in my entire life!"

"We received a phone call from an anonymous source very early this morning. They claimed to have seen you conversing with a member of the Mafia and plotting with him to commit homicide on Colonel Klink the day you found out he was to return to his duties here at Stalag 13. That you also made an illegal purchase of a lethal dose of methamphetamine in order to guarantee the Colonel's death if his severe abdominal wounds did not do the job." Eichmann explained, his voice almost completely monotone.

"That _gestrahlt Sohn einer Pistole_," the kommandant hissed, under his breath. "Where is he? Where's Vito Signorelli? _He's_ the one behind this whole thing! He threatened to have me assassinated by his men if I didn't go along with this wild scheme of his!" (1)

"Signorelli? He's dead. Found five miles away from this camp with a gunshot wound to the back of the lower skull. Committed suicide and left a note near his body confessing to everything," Diekmann said, roughly grabbing a piece of notepad paper from his upper jacket pocket. His dead eyes never left sight of Koch. The minute he had it in his hand, he handed it over for Eichmann to read out loud.

"_To the Gestapo and SS patrols searching for me - By the time you find and read this, I am certain that Colonel Werner Armin Koch of the Luftwaffe is claiming I am the one to blame for Colonel Wilhelm Klink's possible murder along with other charges. Though I am the one that fired the two gunshots responsible for Colonel Klink's possibly fatal injuries, I did not plan this plot out myself. Koch promised me $10,000 and escape to Switzerland if I assisted him in Colonel Klink's homicide and helped him make Stalag 13 a ruthless slave and labor camp for all the guards and prisoners residing there. He also wished to murder the Colonel's daughter shortly afterwards and play it off as suicide due to grief. I planned on murdering this filthy Kraut once I had fulfilled his wishes regardless. Do whatever you wish with him. He certainly does not have __**my **__alibi. __**Addio, Colonnello Koch. Ti vedrò all'Inferno**__._" (2)

Eichmann crushed the note in his hand and looked at the Luftwaffe colonel with blazing eyes. Diekmann continued to hold his stare and was soon joined by Burkhalter, Krause, and Fehrenbach.

"You tried to murder one of your own countrymen?" Burkhalter spat, absolutely sickened with what he was hearing.

"You heartless piece of swine!" Krause gnarled.

"What kind of sick person tries to murder a little 14 year old girl's father?" Fehrenbach asked, shaking his head in disgust.

"Ah, who _cares_ if that fumbling, bumbling Colonel Klink dies or not? He's been nothing but useless to us this entire war! Germany would be better off without him altogether!" Koch remarked, his rage bursting with flames.

"Klink may have been a bumbling fool, but he was much more of a German officer than you will ever be," the Luftwaffe general replied, getting to his feet. "He followed regulations, was a true member to the Third Reich and loyal to his fellow countrymen, and he never beat innocent, defenseless children!"

"How did you know about that?!" Koch bellowed.

"This your riding crop?" Fehrenbach remarked, holding the black stick by the strap. "This blood look familiar to you?!"

"Colonel Werner Armin Koch, you are under arrest on the charges of treason, conspiracy with the Mafia, illegal drug trafficking, blackmail, child abuse, misuse of Luftwaffe ATC radio communications, and possible murder in the first degree. You will be hung with little to no chance at a trial," Diekmann said, as Eichmann tightly handcuffed Koch's arms behind his back.

"You can't do _this_! Stalag 13 is a joke without me in command! I've done everyone a favor in this war!" The kommandant shouted.

"You are at this moment relieved of your command here at Stalag 13 and are to never set foot on this ground or permitted to enter Hammelburg again," Burkhalter replied, then turned to the two Gestapo generals. "Gentlemen, take him away to Berlin. My dear friend Himmler will be very interested in his case."

"I wish to go along with them, _Herr General_," Fehrenbach said.

"Very well. Colonel Fehrenbach, you are to be given an award for your service in this investigation here at Stalag 13 and are to return to Berlin for reassignment."

"_Jawohl, Herr General. Danke, Herr General_."

The two Luftwaffe officers saluted one another, then Fehrenbach aimed his machine gun at their prisoner from behind the two Gestapo generals taking him away.

"You're gonna regret this, Burkhalter! You need me! YOU ALL NEED ME!" Koch screamed, as the door was closing. Once it shut, the general sat back down in the desk chair, put his fingers to his forehead, and propped his head up with his arm. His mind felt like someone was taking a hammer and banging it on his skull.

Noticing the man's discomfort, Krause spoke up.

"General Burkhalter, is there something I can get for you?"

"Yes," Burkhalter answered. "You can get me some aspirin and book me the next flight to Casablanca, Morocco. I'm going on a much needed three month vacation."

* * *

(_74th Army Division Hospital: Stalingrad, Soviet Union_)

Kalina sat by her father's bedside holding his IV'd hand and kept begging him to wake up. She was unfortunately met with nothing. He would not squeeze or pat her hand anymore and was so pale that he literally almost camouflaged with his bed sheets and pillow. Though the surgery had repaired the severe hemorrhaging in his abdomen, it had not done the thing Kalina wanted most: for her father to open his eyes again.

"Papa..._please_ wake up, Papa. I won't back talk to you or complain or misbehave or bug you while working ever again. Promise," she said, as if making a bargain with Klink.

She got no response.

"Papa, please wake up. _Please_, Papa, please wake up. I wanna hear your voice again. I wanna hear your laugh again. I wanna see your pretty blue eyes again, _please_, Papa, _please_ wake up, Papa." The girl pleaded.

Again, there was nothing.

"Papa, wake up!"

Nothing.

Kalina clenched her eyes and mouth shut to keep herself from crying, but tears streamed down her face and buried her face into her father's chest. She wrapped her arms around him and silently wept.

"Oh Papa," she whimpered. "Come back to me, Papa...please come back to me."

Hogan and Marya stood behind Kalina in silence and looked on in sorrow. Their own hearts broke as they watched Klink's daughter use the last bit of encouragement she had to get their Luftwaffe colonel to wake up again. No matter what they said or did, it just would not work on Klink. He was just too far gone for any of them to reach him.

The room soon fell silent, and no one said a word. They became so lost in the quiet that they first failed to notice Nussbaum and Fromm enter inside. Their faces were grim, and their eyes held nothing but guilt and sorrow.

Hogan, Kalina, and Marya eventually sensed a new presence, turned to the front of the room, and Kalina shook her head.

"No...no, no, don't take him off life support..._please_, Dr. Nussbaum, don't take him off life support." She quivered.

The head medic cocked his head slightly to the left, looked at her with deep empathy, and softly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Kalina...I'm afraid there is nothing more we can do for your father," he said. "He's weakening, and we suspect his brain activity is slowly declining as well. He's suffering, Miss Kalina."

"No, there's gotta be something left you can do. Go back to the medical books or a doctor back in Germany."

Nussbaum turned his attention to Hogan and Marya.

"Perhaps one of you can get through to her," he answered.

The American swallowed a knot in his throat and turned to Klink's little girl.

"Kalina," he began, but never got to finish his sentence.

"Don't tell me you agree with them!" She exclaimed.

"I _don't_...but if your father's brain activity really _is_ declining, do you think he'd really want to spend the rest of his life like this? Hooked up to monitors and IVs, not able to play his violin or do anything he loved to do again? You think that's the way your father would've wanted to live forever?"

Kalina's eyes welled with tears, closed her eyes, and began to cry.

"I don't wanna say 'goodbye', Colonel Hogan. I don't wanna lose my best friend." She sobbed, as Hogan pulled her in for a hug.

"You won't lose him. You'll _never_ lose him. We'll always have Colonel Wilhelm Klink in memory and spirit," the colonel answered.

As Kalina cried, Hogan turned his eyes back to Nussbaum and Fromm. "Can we all have a moment to say 'goodbye', Doctor?"

"Absolutely," Nussbaum said.

As Hogan and the small teenager were about to say their final words, Hochstetter and Schultz walked again all smiles.

"We've got him, we've got him!" Hochstetter cheered.

"Get who?" Marya asked.

"Koch. He was the one behind all of this. He is on his way to Berlin as we speak and is being executed as his sentence," the major answered, then turned to his men. "Guards, the snow has lightened up, and the prison truck has arrived. Take this man and see to it he gets to the Berezin Holding Facility."

"_Jawohl, Herr Major_," Balzer said, and he and the sergeant yanked Machiavelli up from the chair he had been held hostage in. They were about to exit the room with the Italian, when they were stopped by the sudden frowns on their commander's and Schultz's face.

"What's going on in here? It's as if Germany just surrendered the war," Hochstetter said, completely at a loss to what was going on.

"They're gonna take the Kommandant off life support. We were all just about to say 'goodbye' to him," Hogan answered. He released Kalina from his arms so she could go back and sit by her father's side one last time.

"Kommandant Klink?" Schultz asked, fighting back tears. "Die?"

The only response he got was the colonel giving him a sad look before hanging his head.

Hochstetter's jaw dropped slightly, then put his arms behind his back and frowned.

Hogan lifted his head and turned to look at the fluffy Luftwaffe sergeant, who already had out a handkerchief to wipe his wet eyes.

"Schultz?" He asked. "You wanna go first?"

Schultz nodded, turned to his sleeping commander, and swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking.

"_Herr Kommandant_...I know that I called you names, and you were always yelling at me for slacking off...but…" He choked up and started to sniffle a bit. "You were the best commanding officer I've ever had, _Herr Kommandant_. You will always be...my friend, _Herr Kommandant_." He stood as straight as possible and gave the best, sharpest salute he had ever given Klink as tears slipped down his cheeks.

Hogan sighed and made his attention to his past captor.

"Kommandant, we had our fights. _Lots_ of them, actually. I drove you crazy, you irritated me with all your bragging and boasting, they were good times, really...but, we also had our happier moments. Playing chess, having a drink of brandy with one another, talks about the struggles of being a colonel...you were alright for a Kraut. I'm gonna, miss you shaking your fist at me and screaming my name, Sir…" He paused and collected himself when he began to choke up as well. "Stalag 13 will never be the same without you, Kommandant. As they say in German, Sir..._auf wiedersehen, Kommandant._" And with that, Hogan gave Klink the best salute he had ever given a German. One he would have given his commanding officer or close friend in the military back in London.

It was now Kalina's turn. She cried more at first, not knowing what to even start with. There was so much she wanted to tell him in too little of time. She tried to catch her breath as much as she could and finally began to say her farewell to the person she loved and treasured most. The one that had always been there for her and always on her side. Her best friend.

"Papa...I'm gonna miss you so much...your laugh, your smile, your hugs and your kisses...I don't know what I'm gonna do without you. You always knew what to say to make me feel better again...I wish you were here to tell me what to do _now_...don't be scared, Papa...you'll have Grandpa there waiting for you...I love you so much, Papa...I love you more than anybody on this entire earth." She broke off and cried a little more, then like he had always done for her when she was sick or scared, she started singing her lullaby to him in D major. She struggled in between lines, but she managed to keep going. Soon enough, she was joined in by Hogan, Schultz, Marya, and even Hochstetter. When they had finished singing, the little teenager wrapped her arms around her father, gave him a big kiss on the cheek, and buried her face into his neck and let her sobbing take full force.

Hochstetter's men stood in silence and watched everyone say their goodbyes to Klink, and even Machiavelli was affected by the grief. He began to silently weep right there in the middle of the room.

Kalina held onto her father tighter, never wanting to let go off him, when she felt a gentle hand grab her shoulder. She looked up and saw her American friend standing there with empathy written all over his face.

"It's time, Kalina," he barely said.

Kalina closed her eyes, nodded, then gave her papa one more kiss on the head and went to Hogan's arms. She buried her face into his belly and continued to cry as the colonel gently rubbed the back of her head.

Nussbaum hung his head, closed his own eyes to keep composure, then turned to Fromm and nodded.

Fromm nodded back and made his way to the EKG machine to flick the switch. When the machine fell quiet, he went to the back wall and prepared to turn off the oxygen. As he reached for the valve, Klink began to flutter his eyes open. It took him a minute to gain the energy he needed, but he slowly made his eyelids open up, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked over to his left to see two doctors standing there.

Nussbaum's face drained of all color and snapped his head towards his assistant in a sudden panic.

"Don't turn off that oxygen!" He commanded.

The loud voice causing him to jump, Fromm lost his balance, fell backwards, and knocked down the head medic with him as he tried to catch his fellow colleague. Both went down with a loud thud and an 'oof'.

Hogan, Marya, Schultz, and Hochstetter all looked on in horror at the collapse of both doctors. As one of them were about to ask if they were hurt, Nussbaum got back to his feet and helped Fromm up by grabbing his arm.

"You alright, Dr. Fromm?" He asked sincerely.

"Yeah...I'm fine...when's dinner?" Fromm replied, his head slightly going around in circles.

"Ah, you stupid _dummkopf_," Nussbaum retorted, helping the man into a chair. "You had to go and hit your blasted head again, didn't you."

Hogan shook his head with his eyes towards the ceiling, then turned to his left and grinned at the sight he saw. He looked down at Kalina and gently jolted her shoulder.

"Kalina," he said, pointing at the bed. "Kalina honey, look."

Klink's grieving daughter lifted her red-rimmed eyes up at the colonel, turned them in the direction his finger was in, saw her father awake, and started to cry louder. She ran to her papa, wrapped her arms gently around his swollen belly, and buried her face into his chest.

Klink smiled weakly, took his little girl in his arms, and gently rubbed her head while giving her a kiss on her forehead.

"Hi, sweetpea," he said, raspy.

Not able to take the deep guilt and strong emotions anymore, Machiavelli began to sob hysterically. It got Hochstetter's men to look down at him with deep concern for his mental state and decided it was time to take him out to the truck.

"Please don't cry anymore," the Italian begged, as the Gestapo soldiers started pulling him out of the room. "I won't try to hurt your father again...ah ha, I had a papa myself once. Ah hahahaha, uhhhhh!"

The minute they were out of sight and hearing, Hogan tried to register what he just saw in his brain, then turned his head to the others when he could not get it to go through.

"What just happened?" He asked.

Marya shrugged her shoulders while holding her arms out.

The colonel turned to Schultz and Hochstetter. Neither of them knew either and simply shook their heads with the same shocked look on their faces.

Hogan finally made his attention to Nussbaum, who had no clue himself. Finally deciding to just drop the whole thing, he returned to looking at Kalina and smiled as a genuine twinkle grew in his eyes. She was just too overwhelmed with the mix of emotions hitting her all at once to control her crying. She was in complete hysterics, though no one said a word. Everyone just remained quiet and let Kalina reunite with her father. Who would have believed that the worst night of their lives would turn out to be the best one of all?

* * *

Klink was moved to a quieter floor of the hospital a little after two hours since waking up. As he lay in his bed, Kalina rested her head on his chest and hugged him with a big smile on her face. She opened her eyes and turned her head up at him. Klink returned the same smile and rubbed her back gently.

Hogan and Marya stood from afar on the bed's right and contently watched father and daughter reacquaint with each other. Koch was gone, and Klink was alive and awake.

"We did good, no?" The Russian lady questioned.

Hogan smirked.

"Yeah. We make a...pretty good team," he admitted, with a sigh.

Marya gasped and fell into the American's arms.

"I _melt_ when you talk to me like this!" She cried.

"Aw, not in front of the Kommandant!" Hogan remarked, then the two began to share a kiss, making Kalina giggle.

"_Made_ for each other," she said. Her father softly chuckled at the remark. Kalina looked up at Klink while he started to rub her head.

"I heard you," he said faintly.

The teenager's face lit up a bit more in response. "You did?"

"Every word...I just couldn't get myself to open my eyes. Every once and awhile I could get my hand to move or make a facial expression, but most times my body just wouldn't let me. Even if I tried, I couldn't open my eyes or make a noise...but I heard you. And Colonel Hogan, too." He continued.

"I'm glad to have you back, Papa."

Klink gave a light smirk, then held his daughter close and gave her another kiss on the top of her head.

Schultz emerged inside the room with an annoyed look on his face. He had the same three nurses holding him by the arms and admiring how handsome and brave he was. The three women giggling got everyone's attention on them and the fluffy sergeant.

"Oh Sergeant Klink, you're so funny," the blonde nurse said.

"Please stop calling me that!" Schultz pleaded.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed because your brother's a colonel. I bet he can't dance as well as _you_ can." The brunette replied, tapping him gently on the nose.

"Back off, he's _my_ husband!" The blonde warned.

"Uh?" Schultz remarked, fear beginning to take hold of his body.

"If anyone deserves to be _Frau Klink_, it's me!" The redhead remarked, holding onto 'her' sergeant tighter.

"Well, Hans and I are getting a nice little house on the Volga, so there," the brunette stated.

"Oh!" Schultz cried.

"Well, we're already moving to the Front and going to watch the Germans take down these lousy Allied soldiers!" The blonde retorted.

"NO! I'm not the Kommandant's brother! I'm not the Kommandant's brother! I'M NOT THE KOMMANDANT'S BROTHER!" Schultz wailed, and sprinted out of the room at full speed.

"Oh Hans, come here!" The blonde cooed, running after him.

"Get away from my husband!" The brunette shouted.

The redhead stood there for a moment, realized the three were gone, and grew outraged.

"Wait a minute!" She cried. "You two get back here! I deserve to be a Klink more than _both_ of you!"

Hogan, Marya, Klink, and Kalina all stared at the direction the sergeant and three nurses had gone in with their jaws hanging wide. Klink, being the most confused and worried of all, turned to his Senior POW Officer for an explanation.

"It's a long story," he answered, shaking his hand.

The Luftwaffe colonel raised his eyebrow at Hogan before his eyes diverted to another distraction entering the room: a raging Hochstetter.

"_Dumme Züge, dummer Schnee,_ I will have everyone at that train station be shot!" He hollered. (3)

"What is wrong, Major Hochstetter?" Marya asked.

"_Wrong_! We're stuck in this hospital for another two days due to snow coming in!"

"Aw, it's not so bad, Major. Gives you a couple days to enjoy the break from work," Hogan said.

The short major snapped his eyes to the American and glared at him.

"I do not see _you_ dealing with your biggest fear this entire trip." He gnarled.

"What are you afraid of, Major; getting sick with some awful rare disease, going into surgery, and dying on the operating room table?" The American remarked.

"That's _exactly_ what I'm afraid of!"

"Look, why don't you just take it easy for the night and play a game of gin with Marya and I."

"I do not play card games with the enemy."

"General Burkhalter's not here to see it, is he?"

"No, but I…"

"Come on, Hochstetter. Just one game. It's not like you're turning traitor and joining the Allied Forces."

"_Ja_, but...ah, alright. I play one game."

As they were about to sit down at the small table and shuffle the deck, Hogan and Marya looked out the window and walked over to watch the sight in awe. Snow was gently falling from the sky in large flakes with street lights and white covered trees in the background. People in their winter coats walked back and forth down on the sidewalks as they made their way to their destinations.

"Hey, look. It's snowing." Hogan gasped.

"_Ja_, I know it's snowing." Hochstetter growled.

"It's so beautiful," Marya said.

"I've never seen anything like it before." The colonel added.

"What's so fascinating about it? We have lots of snow back in Germa…" The major turned to look behind him and became mesmerized with the view himself. "_Ja_, it _is_ snowing, isn't it?" He finished, getting to his feet and walking towards the two.

"Like something I'd see in a Christmas book back home in Cleveland," Hogan said. He smiled. "Kalina, come look at this, hon."

No answer.

"Kalina?" He again called, growing worried. Hogan turned to look back at Klink and silently smirked. The kommandant had his arms wrapped around a sleeping Kalina and brought a finger up to his lips making a silent 'sshhhhh'.

The American quietly walked over to Klink's bedside, sat down by his legs, and reached over to gently rub the girl's shoulder. She did not stir one bit.

"Sleep easy, little one," Hogan said, soft. "We're all here with you now."

Klink smiled at his Senior POW, then back down at his daughter. Marya and even Hochstetter smiled at her.

Hogan continued to rub Kalina's arm, and the kommandant leaned forward to give her a kiss on the head. Tonight, _everyone_ would be getting a good night's sleep.

* * *

(1) _G__estrahlt Sohn einer Pistole _\- Son of a gun

(2) _Addio, Colonnello Koch. Ti vedrò all'Inferno _\- Goodbye, Colonel Koch. I'll see you in Hell.

(3) _Dumme Züge, dummer Schnee_ \- Stupid trains, stupid snow.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

(_Stalag 13: Hammelburg, Germany-11 days later_)

Klink was making remarkable progress in his healing. He had been cleared of having anymore abdominal hemorrhages, the swelling in his belly was going down, was starting to eat a little again, and had no signs of any infections developing. Though he would make a full recovery, the damages he received to his stomach, liver, and surrounding muscles had been so severe that he would never be able to run as fast as he once was able to ever again. It also meant he would never be able to fight in combat again, which did not sound like bad news to him after everything that had happened with Koch.

Today was the day Klink would finally come home from the hospital and Russia. As Schultz went to go pick him up at the train station, Hogan, his men, and Kalina were getting his office all decorated and set up for his big welcome home party.

The black staff car pulled alongside the kommandantur, came to a halt, and Schultz stepped out of the driver's side. He walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and helped his commander to his feet. Klink, wearing his officer's cap and white scarf as a cravat, held his belly with his left hand and was pulled up by Schultz with his right. He smiled and nodded as thanks before the two walked up the steps to his office. When they got to the front door, the sergeant of the guard opened it and stepped aside for Klink to go in first. The colonel again smiled and said '_danke_' before stepping inside.

In the kommandant's office, Baker was making sure the big colorful banner they made saying "Welcome Home, Kommandant Klink" was in place and sturdy in its spot. Carter was setting up a music record, LeBeau was checking to see if his double German chocolate cake was placed in the center of the table set up by the filing cabinet, Newkirk and Kinch were organizing the presents in a neat, tidy pile, and Hogan supervised everyone.

As the colonel continued to observe everything, Kalina came out from the kommandant's private quarters wearing a long sleeved, navy blue sailor dress and was carrying a fuzzy knitted blanket that was light blue and white striped. She smiled at everything, and Hogan turned to her and the blanket she carried.

"Kalina, that's beautiful," he said, in awe. "Did you make this?"

"Knitted all by myself. It's the colors of Argentina's flag. Do you think Papa will like it? I've been knitting it for him since he left for Russia. I finally finished it last night." She replied.

"_Like_ it; he'll be in as much love with it as Hochstetter is with Marlene Dietrich."

The little teenager laughed, then handed her blanket to Newkirk to put onto the present table.

"Hey, Colonel," Baker said, walking over to his commanding officer. "You think that banner looks straight enough?"

As Hogan was about to answer, the seven of them heard the outer office door close. He turned back to face his men and youngest team member.

"They're coming. Everyone get into position," he ordered softly.

They all rushed to the other side of the office, gathered up in a group with Hogan and Kalina in the center, and Carter dropped the needle on the music record to start playing. They all put smiles on their faces and stretched their arms out as they heard the clicking of the doorknob.

Klink and Schultz soon appeared in the doorway smiling, and the kommandant was immensely touched with what he saw.

The seven before them were about to shout "Welcome Home, Colonel Klink", when the Luftwaffe march began to play...only it was not the Luftwaffe march. It was a Japanese man singing an Imperial Japanese military song known as '_Doki no Sakura_'. Their expressions all turned to confused and looked back at Carter.

"You bought the bloody wrong record, didn't you." Newkirk grumbled.

"It was cheaper than the other one," the technical sergeant answered, giving a sheepish smile.

"Andrew, can yah hand me that newspaper over there. I wanna read me comics."

Carter reached over for the newspaper lying by the cake and almost handed it over to the Englishman when his brain clicked and quickly pulled it away from him.

"No, you're gonna have LeBeau hit me with it like last time," he accused.

"I'm not gonna give it to LeBeau and have him hit you with it, I wanna read me bleedin' comics." Newkirk remarked.

"You're sure?"

"Just give me the bloody paper."

Carter sighed and handed the newspaper over.

"Thank you," Newkirk said. He pretended to open to his comics, rolled the newspaper up into a log, then whacked the sergeant in the back of the head with it.

Carter fixed his hat, then turned to his friend and frowned.

Hogan rolled his eyes and returned them to Schultz and their guest of honor.

Kalina's blue eyes twinkled with joy, smiled bright like the sunshine, and ran to her father, who had his arms open and ready to hold her. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. Klink smiled in response and gave his daughter a kiss on the head and held her close.

"Welcome home, Papa," she said sincerely.

"_Danke, süßes_," Klink answered, and gave her another kiss on the head.

"Welcome back, Sir. Apologize for the wrong army music," Hogan said.

The kommandant beamed, still touched at the gesture they had willingly done for him.

"Thank you, Hogan," he replied. "This was...very nice of all of you."

"Wasn't a problem at all, Kommandant."

"Colonel, I have a question," Newkirk said.

"Yes, what is it?" Hogan asked, turning to face his English corporal.

"Can we eat the cake _now_, Sir?"

Hogan laughed.

"It's up to the Kommandant," he turned back to Klink. "What do you say, Sir; you wanna have some German chocolate cake?"

"You had me at chocolate," Klink answered.

"Well then, let's have some cake, LeBeau."

"_Oui, Colonel_," the Frenchman said, and hurried to the cake table with the others following from behind. The kommandant admired the delicious looking cake with white frosting reading "Welcome Home, Kommandant Klink" as LeBeau stuck a candle in it and lit it with a match. Once he had the flame on the match blown off, everyone sang '_For Klink's a Jolly Good Fellow_' to their German colonel, making him blush a bit. He wrapped an arm around his daughter and blew out the candle when everyone was finished, then was greeted with cheering. And with that, LeBeau took the cake cutter and made the first slice.


End file.
